


Midnight Heart (NEVADA RAMIREZ)

by RockWithItWriting



Category: Nevada Ramirez - Fandom, Trouble in the Heights (2011)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-08-18 10:41:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 45,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8159251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockWithItWriting/pseuds/RockWithItWriting
Summary: “How are you happy? All you do is kill and run and fuck and you’re only ever angry! How the fuck could this make you happy? Huh?” Tears brimmed in her eyes and I felt bad; the guilt was bubbling in my stomach like a virus. I ignored it and trained my gun on Logan again, my voice low, cold, and dark.“Get out. Now. I’ll give you three seconds.”Logan, a woman that had looked out for me since I had met her in high school, was gone before I could blink. In that moment I realized that I had made my bed when I sought out Nevada and then, at that moment, I was getting ready to lie in it.





	1. 1.

“Yo, you’re gonna get your white ass killed out there, man,” Levi said, looking at me over his coffee, “Fuckin’ with Trujillo, like it’s some sort of game.”

I only smirked at him, snatching the toast when it popped up from the toaster, “I’m not kidding, Jonah, you can’t be fuckin’ with Nevada like this. We’re gonna be peelin’ you from the train tracks soon.” I just snorted and tossed my head back, drowning half a glass of orange juice before nearly swallowing the toast whole.

“Be a change, that’s for sure,” I mumbled through a full mouth, grabbing my flannel and pulling it up and over my shoulders, “Y’all ain’t have to worry about me. I’m a big boy with big balls. I can take care of myself.” Levi, and his twin sister, Logan, both look at me as if they know that’s not true. I’m out the door before they could protest further, hooking my backpack over my shoulder as I strike a match against it’s box to light my cigarette.

I jump into the foot traffic of the Heights, people working nine to fives, people going to places they needed to me.

And people like me, going places they shouldn’t be going whether they knew it or not. But I knew where I was going, deep into Trujillo’s territory, to fuck something up and make him come to me. That’s what I needed, for him to come to me. He needed to be in my debt, he needed to see that I had power and that I could make him come to me.

Then I would get what I wanted.

It took nearly half an hour to get to where I needed to be, gun burning in my waistband, paint cans rattling in my backpack. Nobody looked at me twice when I tied a bandana around the lower half of my face and then pulled the hood of my hoodie up because it was just something that happened. People in the Heights did shitty things all the time and they didn’t blink when I ducked into an alley that didn’t belong to me, jumping a fence that people died against, setting up a rig that would allow me to get in and out quickly.

I would tag the alley that day and then, as the days went on, it would get more and more public. Nevada would be eating out the palm of my hands, you know, after he tried to have me killed. He wouldn’t be able to kill me, but he would try. I made quick work of the logo I had seen, researched, and watched Nevada’s men cover up and then I got the black paint to tag it with a signature that wasn’t mine. I looked over my shoulder as a familiar face came running toward me.

“The fuck, homie?” He shouted, “What the fuck you doin’ in this alley?” The man, nothing but a runner that was disposable to Nevada, neared me and waved three guys behind him off. “I don’t know who you are, kid, but you got a lot of balls tagging this-” I cut his sentence off by pressing the barrel of my gun into his temple, grinning under the black bandana.

“Tell your men to get the fuck back, homie,” I spit the word out before he did as I said and then I rolled my hand up in his jacket, using it to slam him to his knees and face the still wet spray paint. “See this shit? See this logo? What’s that, huh? You see it? That black fuckin’ mark in the corner?”

“That’s my signature,” He gasped, paling, “Yo, fuck you doin’ putting my signature on this shit? You gonna get me killed!” I grinned and pressed the gun into the back of his head, harder.

“You ain’t gonna get killed, my man. Nevada Ramirez, Trujillo, gonna ask you why the fuck you tagging some Black Spades shit ‘n’ you know what you’re gonna say?” The man shuddered as he shook his head, “You gonna say somebody else did it and he ain’t gonna believe you. Then you know what? I’m gonna burn down one of his warehouses and put down your signature on the sidewalk in front of the ashes unless you get me a meeting with Trujillo. Got that?”

The man gasped and shook his head, “Por favor!” He shouted but I jammed my knee into his back.

“Speak fuckin’ English. Do I look like I know Spanish to you? Huh? My hair whiter than my skin, homeboy, I need to know what you’re saying to see if I should get you killed or not.” The man shook his head, so I continued, “You wanna prevent that shit? Wanna stay breathing? Then you get Nevada to meet with me. Alone. You get him to meet with me, I get what I want, you live. I don’t get what I want some more of these tags go up and poof.” I jerked my gun and suddenly the man on his knees whimpered.

“Yo, man, whatever you want. I can get it, even if Nevada doesn’t get you it. Come on, man, I got a kid at home.” He craned his head to look at me, probably only making out the crinkle of my eyes as I grinned, shoving his shoulder forward. I watched as he cracked his chin on the wall, whirling around to gaze at me, green paint mixing with blood from his chin and nose. I cackled, aiming my gun again before I cocked my head.

“Get back to your SUV, get your men outta here, and when you get my meeting you come back here and cover your shit up. Understand?” The man nodded and I kept my gun trained on him as he stood and walked quickly away, turning around to look at me every once in awhile to make sure I wasn’t going to shoot him in the back. I waited until he was gone and then I turned the other way, hopping the fence again to try and blend in, pulling off my bandana and my hoodie to shove them in my backpack.

Ten minutes later and four blocks down I watched the SUV pass once more, all eyes on the sidewalk as the man I threatened looked for me with a pale face. I smirked as he glazed over my form, not recognizing me. I felt victorious and ducked into a bodega to buy a soda before I headed back home, a weight off of my shoulders.


	2. 2.

My leg bounced as I watched the spot from the roof, the fire escape the way I would meet up with the man I cornered the week before.

I’d camped out everyday since I tagged the alley from seven to seven and that day was the last day before I made another move and got him in even more hot water.

The shadows of the night falling gave me cover, my hoodie and bandanna blending in as someone came galloping down the alley. They were muttering under their breath in Spanish, shaking a paint can to heartily cover the tag. I cocked an eyebrow and silently made my way down the fire escape, pulling my gun from my waistband. Another body started coming down the alley and I backed off again, hiding two floors down in a broke window. The glass cut my arm, blood running down and over my hand, but I focused on the conversation below me.

“Hey, yo, man, you got the stuff? I need the stuff, man, Nevada gonna fuckin’ kill me if I don’t make sales.” The spray of the paint stopped and I watched the drug runners converse before the man with the paint can handed over a tupperware container. I recognized it immediately, a tupperware container of shatter. I barely kept my scoff at bay- the fuck was Nevada running? Some half baked drug crew? Whole blocks had been blown up trying to make homemade shatter. The tradeoff happened quickly and silently and I rolled my eyes, jumping down from my spot on the fire escape.

“What’s wrong with weed, man?” I asked, “You gotta make shatter? You gonna blow someone up, my man.” He whipped around, fear on his face, and it was the man I had threatened a week ago, “Speaking of blowing up, am I gonna blow your damn face off for covering this shit without a meeting or you come through with our deal?”

“Dude, Nevada killed my brother for even agreeing with you, you understand that? My brother. Said I didn’t have a right to agree to that. Fuck off with that gun, man, I’m coverin’ this shit and I’m goin’ home to my kid.” I scoffed and slapped him with the butt of the gun before shoving him back, again, and holding him down. I knew I had made a mistake when I heard the unmistakable click of a gun being cocked behind me, someone laughing evilly. I froze and gritted my teeth before raising both of my hands.

“Nevada Ramirez wants to see you,” Her voice was cold and I scoffed, handing my gun over my shoulder, “Gave you a nickname, too, but I’ll let him tell you that. Let’s go, amigo.” I kept my hands up but she pulled them down as I heard the clicking of handcuffs. It was rather annoying, honestly, but I knew that I was getting exactly what I wanted. That’s why I was smirking in the car, even when the girl with the mask on yanked off my bandana and my hood, running a blood red nail over my chin. “You are very pretty, for a boy.” I snarled and spit toward her shoes, growling. I hated being called pretty but the girl only smirked with my vigor. Before I knew it, she cocked her fist back and punched me in the nose, hard, and I was out like a light.

When I came to I was covered in blood having poured from my nose and I was hanging in a barely lit warehouse by bounds on my wrists. I sighed, gritting my teeth once more when I realized that Levi and Logan would have some choice words for me if I made it home. I didn’t really care if Nevada killed me- either he would give me what I want, kill me, or I would kill myself. That was the whole point of getting his attention and pissing him off. I kicked my leg out, swinging my body, hoping that I could swing myself far enough forward to either cut the rope around my wrists with the hook I was hanging from or swing off. By the time that I had thought I was going to make it off the door opened and three men walked in.

I knew the one in the middle was Nevada Ramirez because the leather jacket and dark glasses gave him away. His men stopped me from swinging and he smirked at me, watching as I struggled against their hands.

“Doug told me that you wanted a meeting with me,” He cooed, “How sweet of you, mijo. What are you, huh? Looking for a hit? Wanting some protection?” I grinned when he missed the mark every time and he gestured to his men to let me go, “You gonna talk, mijo? Aye?”

“You’re wrong on all counts, Trujillo,” His face hardened with the nickname, “Maybe I was just tryin’ to tell you that your boy, Doug,” I sneered his name, still the face of confidence even though I was shaking on the inside and actually scared, “Was taggin’ shit for the Spades. Heard you killed his brother for even talkin’ to me. What’s wrong? You afraid your guy flipping sides?”

Nevada got close to me then, one hand gripping my chin with bruising force and the other closed around my neck. “No jodas, muchacho. Esto no es un juego.” He spat, eyes covered by his sunglasses, still. I pretended to be unfazed but I wanted to shit myself. That was the first moment I thought that I had fucked up, but I was in too deep to back out, “What’s your name?”

“Jonah,” I said, “Yo, you gonna let my face go, though? You smell like smoke. Been to the bodega lately?”

“I smell like cigars that cost more than your fuckin’ life, muchacho. You gonna tell me what you want or am I gonna kill you?”

“A job,” I grinned, “I’m unemployed. Need a cash flow or some specific pharmaceuticals. Gotta problem with that?” Nevada let me go and threw his head back in a boisterous laughter that was just as cold as the way he held himself. Nevada pulled a cigar from his pocket that looked like it had already been lit once, before lighting it again. He gestured to me and then two hands gripped my waist, heaving me off of the hook before the other pair sliced the rope off with a rather large knife. I rubbed my wrists as my legs gave out underneath me, collapsing underneath me as I fell to my knees. “You got an answer for me, Trujillo, or are you just gonna stand there and puff till you die?”

“Cállate niño,” He said, “You think I run a business? Think you can just fuckin’ walk in and I’ll interview you?” He leaned down to me, fingers gripping my hair and leaving streaks of my own blood in my blond hair. Inwardly I groaned in pain, but on the outside I smirked as if I enjoyed whatever game we were playing. “I should kill you right now,” He punctuated his words with two pokes to my chest, “You even got any talents, hombre? Got anything you can give me? You ain’t got shit.”

“You didn’t catch me till Doug came back, yeah? He saw me on the street. Your boy fucked up, Nevada, cause you coulda had me a week ago but Doug didn’t think to rip off the fuckin’ bandana. Think about that, aye? The fact that I got away from you and didn’t get caught for a week? If I can stay away from you that long think about how long I can stay away from the cops, yeah?” I was bargaining for my life, but to Nevada it didn’t look like that. I just looked like someone who wanted to get into a business that wasn’t a business. “You see my work or did Doug just tell you I threw the Black Spades shit on the wall?”  
  
“Oh,” Nevada mocked, “You’re an artist.” He threw my head back and I collapsed to my back, looking up at him, “The fuck am I gonna do with an artist?” He landed two quick blows to my side with his steel toes before speaking, “No quiero un artista, hijo de puta.” But I smirked, stomach aching.

“Yeah, but you wanna send a message? I’m your man. You killed Doug’s brother and he still got me a meeting with you. You see that, right? Yeah? I’m here and we’re meeting. Now, you send me and I get into a house and paint Trujillo above their bed, what does that say?” Nevada paused and looked back at me, “They go to sleep, wake up, and there’s your name above their bed. What does that say? That says that you’re gonna get them, yeah? Better than killin’ off some poor fuck who didn’t do anything wrong. That just pisses someone off.” I pushed myself up and pulled my t-shirt away from my body as it was sticky with sweat and a ring of blood around my collar from my noise. Nevada stared me down and waved his men away.

“Déjanos, ahora.” He bit out and then we were alone. I pushed my hair out of my eyes, squaring up in case Nevada decided to throw another punch. I was done getting pushed around and I was ready to die or get what I wanted. “What do you want, aye? ¿Dinero? ¿Drogas? ¿Proteccion?” I sighed and pushed Nevada back by his leather clad shoulders.

“Yo, will you stop with the fuckin’ Spanish? I can’t speak it. And I already told you what I want. Pharmaceuticals, money, protection.” He snorted which told me that’s what he actually said, “You can give that to me, yeah? I’ll run for you, tag for you. I’ll carry for you. Unless you don’t give me what I want, yeah? Then I’ll split.” Nevada chuckled and gripped my bicep in a bruising grip.

“You say that like you’ll be able to split,” He mocked, “You really think we’re gonna let you go? Estúpido.” He went on muttering in Spanish, turning away from me as I held my ground.

“Come on, Trujillo, I need an answer.”

“I need to know what drugs you need, kid, I don’t bring just anyone in. Gotta control my quality and quantity, you know? Gotta get that sweet stuff and keep the stupid shit like Krokodil outta my dealer’s hot hands.” I snorted and grinned at the man.

“Yeah, that’s why I saw your runners passing off a tub of shatter. That shit dangerous to make, man; miss me with that _quality and quantity_ shit.” He whipped around, eyebrows raised over his dark glasses. “Ah,” I bit out a laugh even though I was still shaking profusely, “You didn’t know, did you? Shit gives a real good high, but blows up the block if you fuck up makin’ it.” I watched a change in Nevada. He went from playful in his own Kingpin way to pale and shaking with anger as he rapidly approached me. I feared for my life and stumbled back, gasping.

“The fuck you say? ¿Qué has dicho acerca de Doug? That bastard sellin’ shatter under my nose?” For the first time my fear showed on my face and I gulped, nodding, unable to say words. Nevada was breathing hard and he stared me down before a sickly grin spread over his face and he fished for something in his pocket. “Take this. That’s enough to buy three cans of black paint, aye? And this phone. You can keep yours but I’ll call you on this one.” I take the money and the new, black smartphone, pocketing them both as Nevada smirked. “You send me a picture of the paint and I’ll text you an address. That tagging thing you were talking about, you do that. Yeah? We understand each other, mijo?”

Relief flooded me and I nodded, mirroring his grin. “Got it, Trujillo.” Nevada turned, still puffing on his cigar, to leave the room. I watched him go and then Nevada barely turned his head to speak to me.

“Oye, cut that Trujillo shit out. It’s Nevada to my workers.”


	3. 3.

“Yo, Jonah, the fuck?” Levi shot up from where he was sitting, dropping his beer and book while drawing the attention of Logan. I scowled and wiped a hand under my nose, where the blood was staining my skin. “What the fuck happened to you?” The twins looked at me until I answered. 

“I met with Trujillo. He was pissed.” I grinned at them, holding up the smartphone and the bag of paint cans, “But it’s all good. He was more pissed when he found out one of his boys was sellin’ bad shit under his nose.” Levi looked back at Logan, horrified, before grabbing onto my shoulder, twisting the fabric of my hoodie.

“Are you insane? You live with a detective and a private investigator and you’re getting your dumbass involved in a drug gang?” He seethed and for a moment I was afraid he was going to hit me, too, “Are you dumb?” I jerked away, anger written on my face, before I pushed past both of the twins.

“Aye, how come people keep asking me that? You two are movin’ out anyways, so what’s it matter?” I turned to glare at them just before I exited to my room, “You’re gonna be closer to work and I’m gonna be able to keep this place without goin’ under. Doesn’t sound so fuckin’ bad to me.” My shoulder ached as I slammed the door and I worked my jaw from it’s tense state. I needed to get out on the town, find Doug, trail him home. Nevada messaged me just as I was buying the paint telling me that he wanted it done by the end of the week or I wouldn’t get paid and I would pay with some serious injuries. I believed him so, after sending out the picture of the paint, I asked him to get me a place in public where I could see Doug and follow him.

I also asked for rohypnol, enough to knock out a full grown man, and that’s when I got the phone call. “Aye, you gonna get me the roofie?”

“The fuck you need a roofie for? None’ah my men are rapists.” I snorted and shook my head, “We ain’t playin’ games, Gleam, no matter what you think.” I started with the use of my last name but Nevada had probably known it from the moment I left. I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew where I lived.

“You want Doug to remember my face when I tag up his room? I can knock him out, but then it’s not much of a warning is it? Just get me to rohypnol, Trujillo, and I’ll take care of the rest.” I heard him sigh and curse under his breath, muttering something incomprehensible.

“I’ll get you the fuckin’ roofies, yeah. Meet me at Galanger’s in two hours. Doug will be there. Do your thing tonight.” He hung up without saying goodbye and I tossed the phone onto my bed, peeling my clothing off before heading to my en suite to shower, taking my time as I scrubbed my body down and let the water get too hot, burning my skin as I washed my hair. It was hard to breathe as I turned the water off, drying my hair and skin before pulling on my tight, black boxers, placing my packer inside. Leaning against the counter I sighed, trying to shake the nerves from my system. It was my first job and Is as excited, but terrified.

I dressed in a smart blue shirt with a white undershirt, with khaki colored pants. I needed to look good, especially if I was heading to Galanger’s- the biggest and best strip club owned by Nevada himself. I couldn’t show up looking like a rat especially when I had a job to do. My boots were on before I realized it and I grabbed a couple of Adderall pills, taking 45 milligrams before heading out the door. By the time I got to Galanger’s it would be kicking in and I would have all the energy in the world to do anything I needed to do. Levi and Logan didn’t move to stop me heading out the door, nor did they bid me goodbye as I picked up the paint and transferred it from the plastic bag to my backpack, hooking it over my shoulders.

I was one of Nevada’s men and nobody would question why I was heading to the club with a backpack because that’s just something his men did. They went with pills and money and blocks of drugs. It just so happened I was going with paint in a cab, chugging along in the Washington Heights traffic that was never ending.

Galanger’s was packed, as always, blue strobes flashing intermittently with red strobes, and I let the energy flow into me. The Adderall was starting to kick in and immediately I saw at least three MDMA deals go down; if I really wanted to have a good night I could go score some of that, but if I was going to do anything like that I was to make sure that I got it off of one of Nevada’s guys. I ignored a runner, pushing a baggie of pills at me and I flashed my own, tucked away on a homemade inside pocket specifically for the clear bags that held my Adderall. The guy raised his hands and backed off, smirking at me. He knew I was covered.

When I got to the bar, smacking my hand down on it, the bartender raised an eyebrow at me. “Jonah Gleam?” He asked, “Jefe wants you in the back, asap. He got drinks back there for his people.” I grinned and tapped my knuckles against the wood of the bar.

“Thanks, my man.” I skirted around dancing people and then finally made my way behind the bar, disappearing where the bartender gestured and I was overtaken by cool air and mossy, green light coming from bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling. I could hear Nevada laughing through a closed door and I pushed it open without calling out. Eyes whipped up to me and more than one gun trained on my head. I smirked and looked toward Nevada.

“Oye, bajen las armas de distancia, ahora.” He ordered, one hand pointing to his men, the other curled around the waist of a wasted redhead. I looked her over, no shirt, no pants, panties nearly off. Subconsciously I licked my lips as she winked at me, and I winked back.

“You got the shit, Trujillo?” With one sharp look I corrected myself, “Sorry. Do you have the things, Nevada?” I spoke overly sweet, tossing my backpack in the corner before popping another fifteen milligram Adderall. I was feeling the effects, colors brighter, the green lights above me dipping everyone’s skin in a nice, soothing color that looked amazing against the redhead’s bare skin and then men’s strong jawlines and expansive biceps if they were wearing tank tops. I dropped down on a couch and snagged a package the size of my fist out of the air when Nevada tossed it at me.

“That’s sixty dollars comin’ outta your pay. I don’t give shit away for free, ¿Ya sabes?” I nodded and grinned at him, unabashedly watching as his date mouthed up his neck and he ran his hands down her smooth, bare back. I was one of his men, officially, so if the others got to watch so did I. I took out my keys to open the package, easily slicing through the black duct tape holding the box together. There were at least four packages of four pills in there, enough to knock Doug on his ass and I needed to wait, just until he was complacent enough to turn his head away from his drink before he left. I watched him across the room eyeing me warily like he knew I was plotting something with Nevada.

But he wouldn’t, not until he woke up and his eyes focused on the tag above his bed. I grinned and flipped the package in my hand before I waved over the bartender as he peeked his head in, asking what I wanted but I waved him off and told him to bring me whatever. Nevada eyed me as he bit into the redhead’s neck but I wasn’t paying attention. A girl, blonde and busty, was approaching me with a drink that I tipped back and gulped down as her hand trailed down my side. “You want some Adderall? It isn’t the heaviest shit but it sure gets you going.” She nodded and I placed two pills on her tongue as she dry swallowed them, moving to kiss me fully. I grinned into the kiss and wondered when Nevada was going to call me out on it.

But as I took a break to look around while the girl kissed down my neck, I saw that everyone in the room was occupied with a girl and Nevada was fucking the redhead on the couch, in plain sight of everyone.

I wasn’t going to get in trouble, but I also wasn’t going to fuck the blonde that wasn’t even that good at kissing. But it was nice, and it had been years since I had kissed someone so I let myself go for a little bit until I saw Doug get up and excuse himself to his home. I pulled away from the blonde who pouted, but I just pocketed my drugs and smiled at her.

“Sorry, doll,” I kissed her once more, “But I got a girl at home that’s missin’ me. Gotta split.” And as I slipped out the door, following my target, I heard her complaining to Nevada.

“Aye, Nevada, you always give me the guys who have girlfriends! I never get any action!”


	4. 4.

Nevada was appreciating my work, having followed me when I followed Doug.

 He saw me dose the man, saw me throw a hard elbow to the side of Doug’s face and then saw me drag him into his home, leaving him in a heap onto his living room floor. That’s when he decided to announce himself, causing me to draw my gun and aim it shakily at him.

“Woah! Cálmate, chico.” He was smirking and I put the gun back in my waistband, nudging Doug’s limp, barely moving body with the toe of my boots. “Is he out?”  
  
“Like a fuckin’ light,” I replied, “You come to make sure I didn’t split?” Without waiting for a reply I took a can from my backpack, shaking it as I turned away, searching for his room. “You can trust me, Nevada. Or, should I call you Jefe?” It was a sarcastic quip, but Nevada snorted.

“If you want. I prefer Nevada, but most of my men call me Jefe.” His hand clamped down on my shoulder, leading me to the only closed door before shoving me into it. I scowled at him, but it dropped from my face when Nevada pushed an envelope into my hand. “There’s your money. Usted perdió sesenta dólares para los roofies.” He smirked as I thumbed through it, counting, and like he said at the club there was sixty less dollars than agreed upon, but that was for the rohypnol. I didn’t care. I was alive and I was getting what I wanted.

“You gonna stick around? If you are I need held gettin’ his fat ass in this bed.” I hopped up and tossed a painting hanging above the head of the bed to the floor before getting to work, “You didn’t tell me he had such high ceilings.”

Nevada ignored my second comment, “Aye, the fuck I look like? I don’t lift shit, chico. You gotta do that yourself, but I’ll give you a ride home.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes, but I knew that it was best to agree with it. “Date prisa, sí? No tengo toda la noche, ya sabes.” I hugged out an annoyed breath.

“I can’t do anything if I don’t know what the fuck you’re saying, Nevada.” I shot him a side eye and then flourished the j in Trujillo widely under all of the other letters. He watched me, but didn’t reply with a translation. In fact, the only thing he did was laugh when I coughed, not having the foresight to bring a mask to protect myself from the fumes. “You think this is good, yeah? Just Trujillo and nothin’ else? I think he’ll understand it.” I jumped down and, again, Nevada’s hand clamped down on my shoulder. But instead of guiding me, it was lighter and softer, in a weird way. As if he was congratulating me without showing that soft side.

“You did a good job, chico. Get his ass in that bed and meet me downstairs. We’ll head to mi casa y hablar de su sueldo.” I jerked an elbow back, but Nevada grasped it and spun me to face him, “We’ll go back to my house and talk about your pay.”

I genuinely smiled at him, but he called me a bitch and strode from the room, muttering something about a suicidal streak- probably referring to me and my smartass mouth. I put my paint back in my bag before wrapping my slender fingers around Doug’s ankles, not caring if I bumped him into a wall or a table. The rohypnol paired with the elbow to the cheekbone made for a hell of a sedative and probably, hopefully, some amnesia in the morning. I managed to get him into his room, but I was so out of breath from lugging his fat ass that I just left him on the floor, propping his head with a pillow so when he woke up he’d see my artwork. I left, quickly, making sure everything was in it’s place before I found the SUV that Nevada was in. Through the tinted window he jerked a thumb over his shoulder from the passenger so I opened the door and threw my bag in before pulling a cigarette from my pocket, lighting it, and climbing in.

“Aye, the fuck you doin’? This car costs more than your life, Jonah. Put that damn thing out.” Nevada was glaring at me so I blew a smoke ring his way before bending and pressing the lit end of my cigarette against my boot, instantly putting it out. “Madre de dios, it’s a miracle I haven’t killed you yet.”

“You need me, Trujillo, admit it. You ain’t gonna get your way killin’ fucks that don’t deserve that.” He rolled his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose.

“I don’t fuckin’ need nobody, aye? You better get good at keepin’ your fuckin’ mouth shut before I have Gabby take care of you.”

“Right,” I drawled back, leaning against the driver’s seat and the passenger’s seat to put my head between the shoulders of the me in front of me, “Because Trujillo never gets his hands dirty. He’s just the man with the money, yeah? I don’t mind, you know, ‘cause you got somethin’ I want and you’re gonna give it to me if I give you what you want. _Quid pro quo_.” Nevada sucked his teeth and threw an elbow back at me.

“El esta loco; se le oye esto? Actin’ like he owns the fuckin’ place. No necesito un artista para hacer cualquier cosa. He better learn that before I blow his head off, aye?” Nevada laughed like he actually had told a joke and the driver laughed along with him while I chuckled in the back seat.

“Go ahead, Nevada. Blow my head off, I don’t care. I knew that was a chance I was takin’ comin’ to you. Either I was gonna get what I wanted or I was gonna die, simple. Kill myself or get killed, didn’t matter. You feel?” I met his eyes in the rear view mirror, his green eyes filled with surprise and curiosity as he met mine; a cool, callous blue that didn’t really care. After a small stare off I watched as his eyes crinkle as he grinned.

“Estás jodido loco!” He shouted jovially, “I like it, Jonah. You got a fire in you and you’ll fit in with me and my men, right, Gabby?” Gabby, the driver, nodded and met my eyes, too.

I leaned back in my seat, grinning, because it felt like a win. A win in what battle? I wasn’t sure, but it was a win.


	5. 5.

It was all silent until Nevada got settled in a rather large, black, leather chair.

He lit up another cigar and puffed on it before looking toward me. I put myself into a much smaller chair; it was clearly a power-trip but I didn’t care. He leaned toward me, eyeing my casual stance.

“So,” He started slowly, “What do you want? Why’d you come to me?” He gestured loosely, “You said you wanted money or drugs? Which is it?” I sniffed, leaning forward just like him, knowing that it could very well be the moment I died.

“Either. I need somethin’ stopped and surgery or drugs will work. Whichever you’re willin’ to fork over.” His eyebrow cocked in confusion so I kept talking, “I’m a man born with certain, eh, attributes that I’d rather get rid of. You feel me? So either you get me testosterone or get me enough money to get a hysterectomy.” Nevada choked on the smoke he was inhaling, pounding on his chest as he eyed me.

“Wait- you’re tellin’ me you’re a-” I stood up, reaching for my gun.

“Keep talkin’, Trujillo, and I’ll blast your fuckin’ head off.” He held his hands up, standing also. “And, no. I’m not a woman. I am a man just as much as you. I have a vagina and I bleed every month.” I circled around him, working my jaw side to side. “I’m already in debt for the surgery getting rid of my breasts but I can’t take this bleedin’ shit anymore. I either need to get everything removed and be out of commission for a couple’a months or I could get back on testosterone but I don’t want to. I like my voice and I like my hair and the body hair so the first is preferable.” Nevada gaped at me, puffing on his cigar as I heaved.

“Okay,” He finally said, “You did good today, chico. We’ll work out somthing’ for you to get that surgery. Are you safe where you’re living?” I whipped around, brows furrowing. Had he really just asked that? Was he really looking down on me with concern? I decided to answer, even though I didn’t understand.

“Yeah,” I nodded slowly, “Yeah, I’m safe. My roommates are moving out next week, anyways.” He raised another eyebrow, “Hopefully, you know, I’ll be able to make rent and get the surgery.” Nevada huffed, shaking his head and putting his cigar down before he put his hand softly on my shoulder. “What, Nevada?”

“You will stay here. I have an extra room. No hay discutir conmigo.” My brows tugged together and I opened my mouth to talk but Nevada cut me off with a stern look and a squeeze of his fingers, “Es final, Jonah. You’ll move in tomorrow, yeah? I’ll send some of my strongest men over with SUV’s to move your stuff.” My mind was reeling and I could feel tears pricking in my eyes, but I swallowed them down.

“Okay,” I nodded, “Yeah, okay. Thank you, Nevada. Thank you.” I would have thanked him in Spanish but I didn’t know it, instead I pulled out my lighter and offered to light his cigar. He took a step back, grabbing it, and letting me light it. It was the nicest he had ever been to me and I turned to wipe at my eyes.

Who knew that a drug lord would have been so nice to me? Hiring me, moving me into his personal house so I didn’t have to pay rent so I could save for surgery? I was in awe and Nevada snorted before sitting back down in his chair.

“Let’s talk about your job, aye? What you gotta do for me.” His gruff voice was enough to shake my tears away as I sat back down. I nodded for him to continue. “You will give warnings to anyone I see fit, the same way you did with Doug.”

“We already agreed to that, Nevada.”

He rolled his eyes, slumping in his chair and manspreading, “Already back to being a smartass, yeah? But you’re gonna run shit for me too. Now you ain’t gonna be runnin’ like selling, okay? You’re just gonna be runnin’ to the houses and handing it over to my real runners.” I nodded, leaning back as well.

“That sounds fair,” I conceded, “If I go to jail it’s your ass.” I pointed and got him to laugh, a chuckle shaking his whole body. I grinned, too, and then shifted uncomfortable. “Should I go home tonight? My roommates might freak out if I don’t come home after I went out to work for you.” He snorted again and stood, nodding.

“Vete a casa, like I said my men will be over when your roommates leave for work.” I nodded, again, before heading out of his house to the waiting SUV. The driver took off, without asking for my address, and finally my stomach dropped when the realization that I was moving in with Nevada after only working with him for barely a day. Why was he doing that for me? I didn’t understand him, but then again, nobody really understood Nevada Ramirez.


	6. 6.

Nevada wasn’t sure what the fuck he was doing.

Inviting a child to live with him? Jonah was barely twenty-four and Nevada himself was about to his thirty-seven. What the fuck was he thinking?

All he could think of when Jonah was talking was of his cousin, Ricky, who had went through the same thing but killed himself before he could transition. And Jonah, wide eyed and young, reminded Nevada of Ricky in a way that he shouldn’t.

Nevada decided to head back to his club even though it was nearly five in the morning. He was in the mood for a drink and a quick fuck because the redhead he was working on earlier didn’t get the job done. She was too whiny and too clingy, something Nevada didn’t like on his woman. He decided to head down to the basement where Jose and Jeremiah were sitting, working on counting money and divvying it up for payment. Jose was the only one Nevada truly trusted with his money, but Jeremiah was a close second. Nevada knew that if Jeremiah stepped out of line, Jose would tell his boss, his jefe, and shit would go down.

Nobody fucked with Trujillo, and that was fact. He watched Jeremiah stiffed when he entered the basement, swaggering with the power he had displayed on his shoulders. “How’s it?” Nevada asked, “What’s my profit this month?” My profit. Nevada was the head, the one who made the plans and set up the smuggling routes and choose who sells to whom. It was his money because he owned the Heights and owned two bars and three strip clubs.

Nobody fucked with Nevada.

“Ten thousand this week, Jefe,” Jose grinned, “Well, a little less. We gotta pay el niño que tu contrató.” He was still grinning, letting Nevada know that he was only kidding. The boss meandered around and watched the stacks of cash pile up, knowing that he was taking care of his family. He felt pride well in his chest because of what he created, inherited, when his brother in law finally fucking died.

His sister, of course, was apparently heartbroken but with the way she was jumping through men said otherwise. He didn’t care- he still took care of her and his nephew. They were the only blood family that he had left and he went through women just as fast as Raquel went through men. Finally Nevada snapped out of his thoughts, literally snapping at his men, “Oye, hurry up with that shit. Quiero volver a club.”

And then he left the basement. It would send his men into overdrive, knowing that he gave an order and then trusted them enough to leave them to it. Plus, Nevada couldn’t drink that shit they had at the club- even the shit saved for him was just that: shit. He had his own whiskey that he kept at home, perfect for a morning drink and a morning out.

Hopefully no shit went down until the late afternoon because Nevada was not happy with a hangover and whoever got in his way would die. He usually let them off with one warning, but with a hangover he would sentence them to death right away.

As he drank his mind drifted to Jonah, the man he apparently decided to take under his wing. He was thin, lanky, and blond. So much so that his hair bordered on white instead of yellow. Nevada knew that he had seen some shit because when Nevada had seen him in a tank top there were six, deep and raised scars on his shoulder. That was nothing compared to the blows Nevada had delivered when he caught Jonah.

But there was something entrancing about Jonah. The way he spoke, voice deepened presumably by a couple of months on testosterone, the way he held himself. It was like Jonah was always trying to compensate from a phantom weight that wasn’t there. Nevada found himself wondering what Jonah looked like before he got top surgery, before the testosterone, before the short hair.

Nevada was sure that Jonah would have made a hot girl, but he also thought that Jonah himself was handsome. That startling thought chased all other thoughts from Nevada’s head. Had he really just thought that? Had Nevada Ramirez really just thought that Jonah, a man, was handsome? As far as the elder man knew he was straight but the more he thought about it, the more he would like to see what it was like to be with a man.

Jose came up the stairs with Jeremiah in tow just as Nevada was finishing off his cup of whiskey, looking pissed. Nevada walked out of the house without another word, needing the club to take his mind off the fluidity of his sexuality.


	7. 7.

I had barely enough things to put in one SUV, just some clothing, my packers and my old binders that I held onto.

I had some photographs but other than that, I had no furniture. I had no car, I had nothing.

Nothing but a note on a table to my friends and a backpack hooked over my shoulder.

It was Gabby who drove me, but we didn’t share any words. I stared out the window and gnawed on my lip until I saw Nevada’s house again and Gabby stopped the car. Nevada was outfront, tossing an electric blue dog toy to a rather large, rather muscular doberman who was prancing happily. “There was not a big ass dog here the last time I was here.”

Gabby snorted, “Nevada sent him out for training. He listens to commands in English, German, and Russian. Nevada got his override programmed to Spanish.” Halfway out of the car I turned back to him, disgusted.

“Aye, he’s a dog not a computer. Don’t say programmed when you’re talking about him.” gabby raised his hands before going to get the rest of my stuff and I approached Nevada. Before I could get too far, though, the doberman jumped into action and growled as he glared at me. I jumped back and he approached, all teeth and crouched low. Nevada jumped up and barked a command before jerking me toward him.

“Leo!” He jerked me down, getting face to face with the dog, “Bueno.” I knew that I would bruise from the force that he poked me in the chest, “El es bueno.” I nodded fervently.

“Yeah,” I stuttered, “I’m bueno. Very, very bueno.” Nevada smirked as he straightened us and patted me on the back. “Does he like me now? The dog, I mean, I know Gabby already likes me.” Nevada guffawed and took another puff off his cigar, tossing the dog toy once again. Leo, the doberman, straightened and looked at me before happily bounding away to get the toy.

“I wouldn’t say he likes you,” Nevada said, “I’d say he’s not gonna kill you now but that’s the most I can do.” We shared a quick grin before he darkened and dug in the pocket of his leather jacket. He pulled a piece of paper out and then pressed it into my hand. “You room is upstairs, two doors to the right. Get ready. We’re leavin’ soon, aye?” How was I supposed to reply? I couldn’t figure it out so I just nodded and stepped around Leo, bounding happily to his master. Gabby followed me and directed me to my room, setting my stuff down.

“Don’t let El Jefe fool you, chico,” He smiled down at me, “The dog, he likes you, El Jefe, he likes you too. You remind him of his cousin, Ricardo. Young, full of life. It’s not a bad thing to be on Jefe’s good side.” I nodded and Gabby left, shutting the door behind him.

My photos went above my bed and my clothing fit completely in the dresser which left the closet for me to pry up a floorboard and shove my money it, covering the loose wood with my backpack. It still held the paint from my last job and all of my chargers which, thank God, reached from my wall to my bed.

The room itself was minimalistic, something that I loved. The bed was on a small platform and I found it endearing and comfortable. I just needed to find some sheets to go on the bed because the bare mattress was not going to cut it for me, no matter what Nevada said.

The thought of Nevada made me fish the paper from my pocket and read it over. His handwriting was neat, but tiny and cramped. It took me a moment to read it over and another moment to even decipher what was written there, but when I did I was surprised.

_job #2_

_jeremiah rogers_

_stealing, lying, gonna get what’s comin to him_

_send him his message that I’m comin for him_

_2,000 dollars_

Underneath that was an address, scrawled just as messily as the rest of the note but I committed it to memory, grabbing my backpack and taking the empty paint can out to throw it in the trash. That left me the rest of the paint to send Jeremiah a message for God knows why. Nevada was waiting in the living room with Leo when I came bounding down the stairs, clicking my tongue. Leo’s ears prodded toward the sky.

“Eye, ready to go, Nevada.” I said, picking up a pack of gum from the table, taking out a piece and popping it in my mouth, “Am I luggin’ my ass to his house or am I gettin’ a ride?” Leo danced around my legs as I reached down to pet him, looking toward his master. Nevada looked borderline annoyed as I won over his dog, one eyebrow cocked.

“You’re following again,” He said. A door opened behind me and I turned, Leo licking at my hand with the way I ignored him. Two men came up and were mumbling to each other before they laid eyes on me. One was skinny, too skinny, and pasty white. Now- I was white. Really white. Even my hair was white, but my skin didn’t show my veins in it and I didn’t have bags under my eyes like this dude did. He looked sick and like he was dying. It only took a second to guess that he was Jeremiah.

“Is this the new gringo?” The other man asked. He was thick with muscle, grinning, and dark skinned. The tone of his voice was jovial as he smiled at Nevada. “El niño es flaco. Demaciado flaco. What happened to hiring men with muscle, Jefe? Now we’re hirin’ drug dealers?”

Nevada scoffed and snapped his fingers for Leo, who bounded over to him happily, “Él no es un adicto, ¿de acuerdo? The hardest thing I’ve seen el chico do is Adderall. Half the shit I’ve seen you do, Jose, you’re lucky I trust you have enough brain cells to count mi dinero.” I cracked a smile as Nevada defended me and I leaned against the table.

“So, are we just gonna talk about the white boy in the language he doesn’t understand or are you gonna introduce me, Jefe?” Best in front of his men, I should have probably called him by the name they did. He barely blinked an eye before nodding at the men.

“They’re Jose and Jeremiah,” He spoke gruffly and quickly, “They count my money and pay the checks that I order out.”

“Of course most of that goes to Nevada.” Jeremiah looked to me as if I understood but I just cocked an eyebrow at him, smirking. If he thought that I was his friend just because I was another white guy working in the same drug trade, he was wrong. Wrong as hell. As far as I was concerned, Nevada was where my loyalty lied because he was giving me what I needed.

“That makes sense,” I sneered, “Since he is the one protecting us, you know. Unless you wanna, I dunno, get rid of that protection for a bigger check? I hear the Black Spades’re hiring and they don’t protect their people for shit. Bigger check, though.” Everyone in the room looked shocked so I just grinned, “You could betray Jefe, aye? Get a bigger check? Too bad you’d end up dead in a week, boy. Complain again.” I turned to look at Nevada and he had a twinkle of pride in his eyes, smirking around his cigar.

“El hombre tiene un fuego dentro de él,” Jose said, “I like it.” I nodded and threw my hand out for a high five, changing into a quick hug. I could feel myself finding my place and I was sure that other’s could see it, too. Nevada stood quickly and motioned to the three of us, heading toward the door.

“Let’s get goin’, yeah? We can’t stay inside forever, can we?” I shrugged as I followed him out the door, trying to minimize the rattling of the paint cans that I had in my backpack. I hated that I was going to have to trek behind Jeremiah like I had Doug- who I hadn’t seen that day- all the way back to his place and then figure out a way to knock his ass out without having him see my face like Doug had. He stopped my just outside the SUV.

“You look familiar,” He murmured, “Have I seen you before?” Panicked I jerked back and shook my head, feigning confusion.

“No, my man,” I laughed out loud, patting him on the back, “I’m new to the neighborhood. If you’ve seen me you’ve been in some backwoods hick-shit.” We shared a tense moment and then a laugh, fake on my part, before I climbed in and settled myself just behind Nevada. Jose seemed annoyed, almost, but rolled his eyes and crawled over my to sit in the middle. We both glared at Jeremiah and I leaned out to shut the door so he’d get the message: he had to go around the car and climb in, showing him I was already a higher rank.

I was starting to like doing illegal shit under the direction of a terrifying drug lord.

It was kind of thrilling.

* * *

“Go now, chico,” Nevada whispered, leaning heavily on me, You have his address. Take a taxi.” I nodded, eyes hooded because I was inebriated; which, in retrospect was a bad idea. But I didn’t care as I hailed a taxi and told the man I’d give him an extra twenty if he got me to the address in ten minutes. He did and he got the extra twenty.

Breaking into Jeremiah’s place was easy as hell, maybe because my reality was a little warped or maybe because he didn’t even lock his door, but either way I was very happy as I snuck into his apartment. From what I could see in the dark it was a shitty apartment. I could hear snoring from the bedroom and I assumed he was in there sleeping, and I would be right. I took out a paint can and tried to shake it silently, but it didn’t work. The snoring was interrupted and I could hear Jeremiah mumbling under his breath.

I decided it would be safer to knock him out, which, you know, it wasn’t. So I headed toward where the snoring was coming from and readied my already bruised fist to cock it back and hit him in the face, but he was awake and waiting for me.

I was knocked back with a blow to my mouth, my lip splitting and pouring blood down my chin. My world spun momentarily and I tossed two more punches at my attacker. Jeremiah reeled back into a stack of DVD’s and his eyes fell on one and then flitted back toward my face. “Oh, shit,” He breathed, scanning me. I sniffed and wiped a hand over my face.

“Nevada’s gonna kill me. This is the second time one of you fucks has seen me.” His eyes widened and he picked up a DVD and tossed it to me and I caught it, cursing and dropping it like it burned me when I saw my face, my young, pre-transition face, with a ball gag in. In a moment I knew that Jeremiah needed more than a warning: he needed a reason to be silent. But I didn’t get to make that choice because he launched himself at me and I reeled backward, his hands curled in my shirt. He landed two punches before I jerked my legs off and flipped us over so I could hit him. We tussled and finally Jeremiah jerked and elbow and clocked me over the jaw. It knocked me unconcious for a few moments and when I came to Jeremiah was grinning over me. He raised his foot and stomped down on my stomach and then delivered a quick kick to the side of my head.

Everything went black, and I wasn’t aware of anything.


	8. 8.

Pain.

Everything was pain.

Darkness and pain.

Why did I hurt so much?

I couldn’t get my eyes to open.

I couldn’t move my body.

Fuck, it hurt. I hurt. Why did it hurt?

I tried to move again and my body started buzzing.

I could feel the cold concrete beneath me and the chill of wind around me. Something on my body was wet. I didn’t understand.

I just wanted to understand.

My eyes opened, of only just a little.

It was dark out.

The moon spun in my vision, too bright against the inky blackness. I cringed and groaned, turning my head. That hurt, more, somehow.

I coughed and felt the steel of blood dribbling over my lips.

When would the strength return? I needed my strength.

My chest ached and I wondered if I was going to die. Would I die somewhere that I didn’t know where I was?

Finally I felt like I could roll over but when I did I collapsed again, face pressed to the ground. Tears fell down my face and I choked out a sob. I didn’t want to die.

The pain became too much so I pushed myself up, eyes falling on the concrete below me. There was a small smearing of blood and I knew that it came from me. Why was I bleeding? Was it because of the pain I felt?

I was dizzy and disoriented but I eventually stumbled to my feet, backpedaling until I was leaning against a wall. I felt like the world was twisting under my feet and I brought a hand to my face but stopped when it was already covered in blood.

What was the point of bringing it to my face to see if there was blood on my face if I had blood on my hands? I put my hand back down again and felt around in my jean pockets, fishing out a crush cigarette package. As I put the stick in my mouth I realized that I had nothing to light it with and it tumbled from my mouth.

 _I needed to get back to Nevada._ He would take care of me.

I turned, stumbling down steps that also had my blood soaked into them, before squinting my eyes at the noise and the lights of the city.

Was I even in the Heights anymore? I could have been anywhere.

I hailed a taxi, knowing the moment I showed up at Galanger’s that Nevada would hear about my bloody appearance and he would come running. Hopefully. Unless Jeremiah got back to him first, with the porno in his hands. I cursed as I dropped into the taxi and I could barely spit out the name of the club.

“Galanger’s,” I spit, “Make it quick.”

It took one look at me and the cabbie took off, making an illegal u-turn to get me where I needed to be.

I didn’t bother to pay as I heaved my body out of the cab. It was getting heavier and heavier and I could barely breath by the time I reached the door.

The doorman must have recognized me because his eyebrows shot up and he rushed to catch me as my coughing fit tossed more blood out of my mouth and I doubled over. Just before I hit the ground, he caught me and cursed. I recognized him. It was Gabby and he waved to another man to take over his position as he dragged me behind the club and to a car.

“What happened?” He whispered harshly, unlocking it, “Who did this to you? Jefe’s gonna be pissed, chico. Let’s go.” I didn’t speak as he laid me across the backseat, back on the soft leather. I relaxed and let the car lull my pain away but the ride was over too soon and Gabby was leaning over me again, slapping the side of my face.

It barely roused me.

“Let’s go, chico. Nevada’s inside. You been missin’ for two days. Where’d you come from?” He tossed my arm over his shoulder and I shuddered in pain. I tried to shrug but I couldn’t. I could only roll my eyes toward him and let the blood drip with my saliva off of my lips. I couldn’t even grunt. My feet dragged as Gabby huffed, trying to hold me up and open the door.

It wasn’t working.

He reached out with his other hand, taking it off of my torso, but then I collapsed into a heap. Gabby cursed above me but just fervently knocked as he bent to pick me up again.

I swatted his hands away.

It hurt.

It hurt so much, so, so much.

I just wanted to die.

Why did I hurt so much?

Gabby straightened again when the door opened but the noise around me was distorting as I stared at the SUV. I was laying on my side and it hurt.

God, it hurt so much.

I could barely hear shouting, an exchanging of words in Spanish, before I was roughly gripped on the shoulders and turned to face one of the speakers. It was Nevada, eyes wide with the smell of whiskey on his breath.

I groaned and he turned for one moment to spit an order at Gabby. Nevada had my torso and Gabby picked up my legs before they began shuffling me inside the house.

I sighed and closed my eyes when the warmth washed over me. It was a blessing to the chill running through my veins. It was still there, of course, but I figured that up to the blood loss. They laid me on the couch and then Gabby disappeared before. I closed my eyes and the sound around me drifted into a static fuzz but that was until a heavy hand came down on my cheek, startling me awake.

God, it hurt, but it was a different kind of hurt. The slap was a sharp sting in the middle of a sea of dull, vibrating pain.

“Fuck,” I could hear Nevada say, “Jonah, what happened? I thought I was gonna kill your ass for leavin’ your job.” He was kneeling next to me and I gave him a bloody, weak smile. “Who did this to you, aye? _Who_?” My eyes drifted to the ceiling and then back to Nevada. I tried to speak, but I could barely make the words.

“I can’t,” Another cough sent pain rippling through my body, “Remember.” He rubbed a hand down his face and stood, back turning on me as he propped his hand on his hip. In my peripheral vision I could see my hand dangling over the edge, arm and hand covered in blood.

I hated looking this weak in front of my boss.

Scratch that, I hated looking that weak in front of anyone.

_Especially Nevada._

Someone opened a door inside the house and Jose stepped out, chatting with Jeremiah.

It was like an electric bolt of memory through my body and I was on my feet as my heart pounded away the pain. Adrenaline was a hell of a drug but I would certainly feel it later. Jose and Jeremiah looked over at me, the latter looking shocked at seeing me.

I pointed a shaking, bent finger at him before I spit out his name with a spray of blood, “Jeremiah. Nevada, he did this.” The room came to a standstill and I stepped toward the duo near the basement door. “The fucker caught me when I snuck in to tag him.”

“Tell him what you are!” Jeremiah gasped, “You fuckin’ tranny! _Faggot_!” Rage seeped into me and I saw red but before I could make any moves Nevada was on him, slamming him against a wall. Jose helped hold him down as Nevada punched him and punched him and punched him. When Nevada stopped he looked shittier than me.

The pain started to creep in again and somehow I was still standing. Nevada turned to me and hooked my arm over his shoulder. He glanced darkly at Jose and spoke. “Take this traidor to the warehouse. Have Raquel come over and take care of Jonah. I’ll be over as soon as she gets here, yeah?” I watched Jose nod before Nevada began the work of dragging me up the steps and past my room into the bathroom. He was breathing heavy and I was barely breathing. He let me down on the toilet before dragging my shirt off of me, eyes lingering on my scars.

He tossed it behind him before jerking me to my feet. I groaned as it shot hot pain down my spine.

If I weren’t wishing for death I would have protested when Nevada toed off my shoes and socks, pulling off my pants and leaving me in my black boxers. He was mumbling under his breath but I couldn’t decipher any of it.

It was probably Spanish or warbled English that I couldn’t hear because I didn’t catch any of it. He wrapped his arms close around me, laying me slowly in the tub as he wrapped my pants in my shirt, lifting my head to prop my head up. He straightened and wiped a hand down his face as he observed me. “Do you want the water on?” His voice was soft, small. Something that I didn’t expect from Nevada Ramirez. I nodded, “I’m gonna get you fixed up, amigo. Gonna get you fixed up real nice, you hear? Mi hermana? She’s a doctor. Not a real one pero she’s a good one. Fixed me up real nice more than’a couple’a times. I’ll have her bring some pills for you.” I nodded and he turned on his heel, white knuckling his cell phone as I soaked in the water he ran.

It was warm and soothing and washed away some of the blood on my body. The pain was still there, though, but Nevada was the king of drugs, so I wasn’t worried. He would fix me.

I must have lost consciousness again because Nevada was leaning over me again, voice warped as I came to, “Open your mouth, chico. These will take the pain away. Están libres. Esto es mi culpa. Te debo.” He looked softer than I had ever seen him and I obeyed him, swallowing the pills he pressed to my tongue. He stood again, revealing a short, darker girl with hair so curly I didn’t know how she took care of it.

“I’m Raquel,” She was softer herself and she kneeled next to the tub, eyes flitting across my bruised, bloody, skin. She sighed and turned to Nevada, speaking slowly and swiftly. I turned my head, pressing my cheek against my clothing and called Nevada’s name in a hoarse voice.

“Save some for me,” I croaked, “I want a piece of that bastard.” Both Raquel and Nevada looked at me with the same expression in two different faces. Raquel burst into laughter while Nevada nodded sullenly, leaving me in the hands of his sister. She turned to get a washcloth and some liquid body wash, bathing me.

As she washed my blood off of me, we conversed.

“Nevada won’t killl,” I wheezed, “Won’t kill him, right?” Raquel’s eyes widened and she had question in her eyes, “I want to be the one to kill him.” Her washcloth pressed down suddenly and her eyes met mine.

“No,” She finally said, “No, Vada will not kill him. He will leave him for you. You asked him to, and he will.”

“Trujillo doesn’t bow for anyone.” She helped me sit up and then washed my back, heaving me out of the water. I stood shakily and she pulled me over the edge of the tub, laying me on the floor. Raquel worked on drying me while the painkillers took effect and she yanked me up again. Raquel was much more gentle than her brother, but she still had that underlying roughness that I figured all of the Ramirez children would have.

I jerked away from her to dress myself with clothing someone left out and dressed, not caring that I wasn’t dry. I hurt. Everything still hurt and Raquel was staring at me.

“Vada has never trusted anyone like he trusts you.” Raquel observed, “What did you do to gain his trust?” I shrugged and fumbled with the buttons of the black flannel, settling for just leaving it open to my bare chest. Raquel helped me with my jeans, a pair of looser jeans I owned, and then she eased me into a laying position on the bed. I felt tired- was it the blood loss or was it the pain medicine? “My brother would usually kill anyone who dared disappear for two days.”

“I got my ass kicked and then I was dumped in an alley,” I groaned to punctuate the sentence and Raquel bustled about before laying a heating pad over my bruised stomach. She sucked her teeth and wrote out a note, setting it on my nightstand.

“Call me when you get better, chico,” She grinned, “Vada’s got a man outside when you want to go get a piece of that bastard.”


	9. 9.

I let myself tip off into sleep, having faith in Nevada.

He wouldn’t touch that man until I got there. In my dream I heard someone speaking but I was standing in a dark room, waterlogged and naked. I felt like I was bleeding but I couldn’t see anything or feel when I raised my hand to my nose.

“This is my fault.”

I whipped, trying to figure out where the voice had come from. It was hoarse, close. I shivered as the voice sighed. It sounded like the man was speaking right in my ear but everything was black- I couldn’t see anything.

“Just like Ricardo was my fault.”

I growled. The voice was fading away, becoming disjointed and I wanted to follow it. I began walking and my walk turned to a trot and then a run. I was struggling to even move my feet and it was like moving through molasses. The voices kept conversing.

“Ricardo wasn’t your fault,” Another voice said, farther away, “Ricardo was Ricky’s fault, you know this. He couldn’t cope so he did something about it.” My legs gave out and I was falling, twisting in abstract ways until my eyes opened and the ceiling came into fuzzy focus. There was a heavy weight on the side of my bed, a muffled voice and then Raquel spoke. “Jonah’s awake.” And the weight was gone.

I turned my head and Nevada was there, pale with bleeding knuckles as he looked down on me. “Raquel, leave,” He ordered, “I need to speak with Jonah.” I pushed myself up and shook my head and wondered why I wasn’t feeling any pain, but then I saw the IV in my arm and the steady dripping of morphine into my system. “I-We were worried about you. The whole crew. Gabby really likes you, ¿ya sabes? So does Jose y Raquel.” I snorted and laid back down.

“How long have I been out?” I asked, running my hand over my stomach. The bruise was still there and it hurt, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it was the last time I was awake. Nevada shrugged and sat back down, informing me that I had been sleeping over two days- I was almost glad. The morphine was nice and I liked the warmth that it was pushing through my body. Nevada put his face in his hands. “Be careful blaming yourself, Nevada. I’m a big boy. I can protect myself.”

“You’re under my protection!” He bellowed, standing up, throwing his chair back, “Yo casi lo mata,” He said, “Yo casi lo mata. And you told me not to. Someone hurt one of my men and I didn’t kill him.”

“I asked you not to.”

“That shouldn’t matter! I am Nevada Ramirez. I am Trujillo! I should have killed that man and I should have made his familia watch, aye? Instead I’m here supplying you with drogas y una cama. I’m going soft. I should kill you.” He seethed, “I should kill you for shirking off for two days and making me soft.”

I stared in awe at Nevada as he looked the most pissed I had ever seen him, and that’s saying something. He was pretty pissed when he had me hung up for painting the Black Spades shit in his territory. When he didn’t speak I finally figured out that he was waiting for me to reply.

“So kill me,” I said, “I don’t care. Don’t you understand why I want to be the one to rough him up? You can go ahead and kill him after I’m fuckin’ done, aye? Just let me rough him up. This is not what your anger is about, though is it?” I pulled the IV out and stood, wobbling, but fierce as Nevada stumbled back. “You’re mad coz one’a your boys is on a porno cover with a ball gag in his mouth and tits the size of watermelons.” I snarled, “That’s not me anymore, Trujillo. I’ve got a dick in my pants and I ain’t done porn in six years.” I shocked him into silence and whirled, stomping over to my dresser before I leaned against it. The world was spinning and I was regretting yanking the IV out and getting out of bed. But I needed to get dressed.

I needed to beat the bigotry out of Jeremiah. The outfit I chose was dapper- a light shirt with a denim pullover and khaki pants- because I needed him to know I meant business. Nevada was still watching me, even as I flinched pulling on my socks and white shoes- finishing it off with a thick, leather watch. Nothing I wore was expensive but it certainly looked like it. My boss was still standing when I turned around, rubbing my chin.

“Are we gonna go? I need to stop at a store.” He raised his eyebrows but gestured to the door “Don’t be such a sourpuss, Trujillo,” I snarled once more, “You’ll get your turn to fuck with him ‘n kill him. Promise.” Nevada still seemed ruffled so I didn’t speak anymore, stumbling to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. Nevada pulled me out by my arm, thrusting me through my open door and I barely righted myself before I tumbled down the stairs. Luckily I caught myself before the latter happened, but I didn’t dare say anything to Nevada about it. He would have surely kicked me down the stairs in retribution. He grumbled the whole way to the car, complaining to Gabby in Spanish as the latter man clapped me on the back, ignoring his boss.

“It’s nice to see you up and walking, chico,” He grinned, “Jefe woulda had my head if you died.” He opened Nevada’s door and we grinned at each other as I heaved myself into the backseat of the SUV, counting out the money that I would need. When Gabby was situated in the driver’s seat and ready to go he turned his head to face me once more, “What’s your plan, Slice?”

Sarcastically laughing as my stomach twinged with the nickname I covered it with a smirk, “Jeremiah’s skin is a little too blank for me.” I said, “I think I’m gonna give him some ink the old fashion way. What do you think, Jefe? My name or yours, right across his chest? Maybe some, ah, interesting phallic shapes.”

“What, are you a child?” Nevada snapped, “Algunas formas fálicas interesantes.” He snapped, “Who have I hired? Aye, Gabby? Who the fuck have I hired?!” I caught a peek of Nevada’s face in the rear view and he had a tight grin on his face but it soon gave way to a real one. “Mi nombre. I don’t care about the rest, pero mi nombre.”

“Aye, aye, Jefe.” I snorted, “We gotta stop and get the shit, though, unless you got tattoo equipment in whatever shithole warehouse you’ve got this fuck in.” Nevada sighed heavily through his nose before turning to speak to Gabby.

“Voy a matarlo, I am. I swear. He acts like he owns this place. I can’t even teach him a lesson porque voy a sentir culpable. He’s already had the shit beat out of him once.” I leaned back and crossed my arms, very cocky. If Nevada Ramirez felt guilty at the prospect of beating me up even after I constantly disrespected him I had some standing, some power over him. It was weird, but nice to think about. “Get out,” Nevada snapped his fingers at the convenience store, “Get your shit and let’s go, yeah?” I jumped out of the car and slummed my way into the store buying what I needed to do what I needed: I already had the knife so all I needed was a shitload of pens, black, and gloves.

It was like the cashier knew what I was going to do when I smirked at him, so he kept his head down and didn’t say anything. I guess I did look pretty scary though, all bruised and scabbed up. It sent a strange tingle through me knowing the man was afraid of me. “Is that Trujillo in the SUV out there?” He whispered, “Trujillo, ya sabes, killed three men last month. Well, he really didn’t kill them…” I coughed and then smirked.

“Trujillo, mi Jefe, he never gets his hands dirty. Kinda like Charles Manson but mi Jefe isn’t a pussy.” I took the bags of stuff without paying from the pale cashier and meandered out the door, pushing it open harshly. “And can we stop with the fuckin’ Spanish? I know like three words in Spanish, Jesus Christ.”

* * *

I watched the knife spin on it’s point, balancing on the pad of my finger. As it spun I recall thinking that it was mimicking the way the world was turning and changing, the way my personality would finally come to fill my chest and I would become a man instead of the boy that I was. I remember turning and it was as if everything was in slow motion. I spotted Jeremiah on the ground, on his knees with his wrists tied behind his back. He had a bloodied rag tied around his jaw, holding his mouth open but leaving him unable to speak.

“I never got to finish my tag you know,” I cooed at the man, dragging the handle of my knife down his jaw as he whimpered, “So Nevada’s boys got you all set up so I could tag you.” Seething a slapped his chest and then dug the knife in a jagged line down it as he screamed through the gag. I snickered and felt a sick, sick warmth spread through my chest.

Why did I like it? Was it because he had beaten me, called me things like tranny and faggot and queer? Was it because my body still ached as I cared the rest of Trujillo into his skin? Or was it the way I remembered my own body contorted on the cover of the porno?

Or was it just because I was sick, twisted, in all the same ways Nevada was?

I knew that I was going to give a bad name to my community by getting involved with Nevada. People, they see a trans person who’s an asshole and they assume it’s because they’re trans. They don’t know shit. I liked torturing him, liked making him feel the same pain I felt, but it wasn’t because I was trans.

I just liked it.

And soon I was kicking him into his back, breaking pens over his open wounds and rubbing the black ink in. I wasn’t sure it would take, really, but that wouldn’t matter. It would either get infected or he would have a nice, thick scar bearing Nevada’s nickname. He would remember my face and my name and my touch and the way my knife sunk into his skin.

And I liked it. I kept rubbing in the ink and it covered my gloves along with Jeremiah’s blood. Finally I was done, taking his shirt and wiping off the excess from around the wound. Then I stood and peeled my gloves off, turning back to Nevada with a sick grin on my face. “He’s all yours, Jefe,” I gestured behind me as I walked past Nevada. He was looking over me with a proud look, as if I was a child he was teaching his brutal, bloody ways.

“Good job, chico,” Nevada whispered, “I’ll take it from here. Gabby can give you a ride.” But I stopped to shake my head.

“No, I’ve got something else to take care of. Turns out when you run with the big dogs you become a big dog.”


	10. 10.

The motorcycle roared under me as I drove out of the lot, my stomach leaping in freedom.

I grinned and cut people off and I gave them the bird because I didn’t care. What Nevada had, I wanted it. I wanted the power, the ability to silence someone with a look. I didn’t want all of it, no, but I wanted some of it.

Just, you know, a little slice. Just something of my own.

But I knew that Nevada would keep me safe and he’d get me what I needed. He’d get me my surgery and well, in the beginning it was just something to get what I wanted but my mind was reeling as I blew through a red light, motorcycle rumbling, blood boiling with freedom and rage and excitement.

It was something more, after just that one experience with Nevada. I knew that I would want to keep working with him, even after the surgery. For some reason I wanted that life, the blood, the drugs, the death. Was I crazy? Was I legitimately crazy? I was willing to work for a Dominican drug lord and I wanted to.

As I pulled into the driveway of Nevada’s house and turned off the bike I decided that I was crazy. But that wasn’t so bad. Crazy got me my surgery, crazy got me a bike I’d always wanted, crazy got me more happiness than any of my friends had ever given me. Crazy gave me a home and a very, very profitable income.

Crazy gave me everything I ever needed.

So that’s why I stayed on my bike, angling it toward the street, smoking until Nevada came back. Gabby pulled in, his bumper barely an inch away from my front tire, and they both got out. Gabby whistled in appreciated and I smirked as I took a deep pull from my Marlboro’s. Nevada eyed me, “Is this what my money is goin’ toward? A fuckin’ bike? I thought you wanted that shit outta yah?” I patted the gas tank, flicking ash off toward the side before replying.

“Gotta live a little, Nevada. How am I supposed to get around to tag people up? Fuckin’ walk? I don’t think so.” We stared at each other for a tense moment before he let loose and bellowed a laugh before moving to clap me on the back.

“That’s how you gotta live, mijo!” He still had the remnants of joy on his face before he turned back to Gabby, “Vete a casa. Ver a sus hijos. Besa a tu esposa.”

“Pero jefe, estoy de servicio esta noche.” Gabby furrowed his brows, “I can’t go home.” Nevada plucked my cigarette from my hands, taking the last possible draw from it before dropping it and rubbing into the ground with the toe of his boot.

“I’m telling you to go home, aye? So go home. Did you see Jonah tonight?” I coughed as he clapped his palm against my chest, “Fue el mejor que he visto en mi vida. Su método era increíble. No tengo miedo cuando él está aquí.” I understood none of his Spanish, except maybe vida, aquí, and tengo. But that wasn’t enough to put together what he said. Gabby smirked at me and gave me a side eye.

“Whatever you say. Nice bike, Jonah. Suits you.” I waved as Gabby got back in the SUV, backing up and pulling out of the driveway. We stood and watched for a few moments before Nevada put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. I flinched when it got tight enough to hurt.

“Let’s go inside, chico. We need to talk.”

I kicked down the kickstand and swung my leg over the bike, following Nevada’s bulky, leather covered form into the house. He almost let the door slam on me and probably would have had I not caught it and slipped inside before it clicked firm in the doorframe. The sound made me flinch but I contained it. There was a tingling in my spine and I felt high- without the high.

(But that might have been the painkillers still in my system- I didn’t linger on that for too long though.)

Nevada prepared a cigar and lit it, settling down into his favorite chair for night relaxing and gestured for me to sit in the chair I had claimed. “I have a new job for you,” He said, “You showed extreme talent,” He smirked over his words, “In aspects I thought you would lack balls in. You’re not too good at breaking and entering, even worse at hand to hand combat, but you’re pretty damn good with a knife, Jonah.”

“Thanks, Nevada.”

“Who said it was a compliment?” He snarked, blowing a smoke ring my way, “Good with a knife does not mean good at torture. And let me speak, o lo lamentarás. I think you’ll be better as mi mano derecha. I don’t like to get my hands dirty and I like the thought of cops havin’ somethin’ on me even less. I trust you, Jonah. You didn’t have to come back to me when you got the shit beat out of you. But you did.

“Many, lesser, men would not have. Usually Gabby is my right hand, but you’re a much better person to have around. You’re borderline suicidal, selfless, and you can get information. That’s what I need by my side on the streets, aye? Someone who would die for me.” I snorted and turned my head away from Nevada.

“Who says I would die for Trujillo?” I asked, “Are you hearing talk on the streets that I’m not?”

Nevada mimicked my voice horribly, “Go ahead, Nevada. Blow my head off, I don’t care.” He made _neh-neh-neh_ noises before continuing, “Either I was gonna get what I wanted or I was gonna die, simple. Kill myself or get killed, didn’t matter.” I flushed from my neck to my forehead when I realized he was quoting me ver batim and then I shrugged.

“I’m more suicidal than selfless, but you have an impeccable memory, Nevada.” I slapped my thighs before I stood, stretching out. “I’m tired and in pain so, if that’s all you have to say, I’m going to take my pills and go to bed.” Nevada stood too, and puffed out his chest.

“You want the job o no?” He said, “I ain’t gonna wait, either you tell me you wanna move up the ranks and you do or I leave you where you are.” He was glowering down on me and I nodded. A wide smile cracked across his face and he drew me into a hug, “Aye, that’s mi hijo. Go to sleep. Rest. Gabby will be up in the morning to wake you, I’ve got business to attend to tonight.”

I smiled at him and called to Leo, who had been sitting obediently in the corner waiting on Nevada to give him an order. I had decided that since he liked me so much he would sleep in my room. Nevada didn’t seem to mind and neither did the dog, panting heavily as he trotted alongside me.


	11. 11.

The one bad thing about having a mattress on a platform for a bed is that it moved. It moved when I got into sleep, moved when I rolled over, moved when I got up in the morning.

And it moved when Nevada and I fell ontop of it, his hands holding my back in an arch, my stomach pressing against his. I was clenching his back just as hard as he was clenching mine, biting into the side of his neck as he scrambled to situate us in the middle of the bed. We were too tangled to get anything going so I pulled away to shove Nevada back, straddling him in the most feminine way I had ever done. I pressed two hands against his chest and rolled my hips, my packer rolling against his package.

Nevada groaned and grasped at my thighs, pushing his head into the mattress, “Aye, yes, Jonah.” He was flushed so I peeled off the leather jacket and his button up shirt exposing his body to me. He was surprisingly toned, but not so much so. I could definitely tell that he liked to indulge himself because he had a healthy layer of fat on him and I massaged his stomach as I rolled my hips again. He made that delicious noise again and peeled my top off of me, sitting up to kiss and lick at my jaw. He sucked a hickey where my jaw met my neck and I moaned under my breath, feeling his wide, strong hands spread across my back. I angled my head just right and captured his lips in mine, the both of us moaning as we did so.

Nevada might have been the best kisser I had ever experienced and I wanted more, pushing him back down to get impossibly closer. Nevada gripped at my ass, hastily pulling down the basketball shorts I had donned.

“God,” Nevada moaned, “You wear the tightest damn boxers I’ve ever felt,” I smirked into his neck as I rocked against him, his hands leading me from their position on my ass. I shuddered and moved my hands from their bracing position to move between our bodies and undo Nevada’s leather belt and jeans, pushing them down just so boxers met boxers. “I’m gonna top this time,” He breathed, “Nnng, I can’t wait.”

I giggled and rolled off of him, kicking off my basketball shorts and boxers, packer falling loose on the floor with them. Nevada paused in his movements to look over my exposed body, running one reverent hand up until he was cupping my face. The kiss turned from the frantic pace from before and he moved till he was hovering over me, kicking his pants off and leaving his boxers on. “We don’t have to worry about a condom,” I moaned into his neck as he explored my body, “The testosterone I was on in college fucked up my chance of ever having kids.” He grinned and ducked his head to kiss my shoulder before sucking a hickey into the ball of my shoulder.

I sighed and pushed his boxers down as Nevada pushed his middle finger inside of me, crooking it just right. “Nev,” I whispered, “Damn, Nevada.” He was breathing heavily in my ear, nodding along with the noises I was making. “God, yes.”

Just as he removed his finger and got ready to push his cock in I felt like I had been dipped in cold water, jerking upright and gasping for breath. I was alone, in my bed, in a dark room. I was shirtless and in my loose, checkered boxers that I only used for sleeping.

And I was covered in sweat.

“You’re shitting me,” I spoke out loud, “Did I?” I was confused but my memories confirmed that yes, I had just had a sex dream about Nevada Ramirez. I pushed my hair back off of my face and stumbled to my feet, groaning when I tripped down the platform and crashed to the floor. I thought about just laying there and dying, but that wasn’t a solid plan. I needed to get up and I needed to get my mind off of the incredible sex I could have been having with Nevada Ramirez.

The fact that I was staring at my packer wasn’t helping.

So I got up and crept to my bathroom. Had I made any noise? Was Nevada even home? Did it even matter? As I washed my face I thought about how I should take the dream. Eventually I settled on interpreting my dream as the fact that I hadn’t had sex in months and I really, really needed to. Nevada was just a very attractive alpha male that fulfilled my best, naughtiest fantasies.

When I realized that I was thinking about Nevada again I shed my boxers and cranked the shower to the highest heat setting it had, slamming my knuckles into the wall while the water pounded on my back as I waited for it to heat up. Fuck, I was so heated. I was angry and sexually frustrated. While the heat was burning me, someone knocked on the door and called my name through the wood.

“Jonah, something’s come up. El Jefe wasn’t going to wake you, but he heard the shower turn on. He told me to tell you it’s your test run.” It was Gabby and even though I wanted to snap at him, I couldn’t. It was Gabby and he was the nicest out of the crew to me.

“Aight,” I called back, “I’ll be down in couple’a minutes.” Would he know that I was struggling with myself by the roughness of my voice? I shook my head as I turned off the water, stepping out without bothering to towel off or checking my room before I stalked into it, pulling a flannel and white shirt from my dresser. Ten minutes later I was dressed and downstairs. Nevada was waiting for me, looking stern and pissed. His jaw was working heavily and he was typing quickly on his phone, “Nevada,” I mumbled, “It’s like four in the morning. What do you want?”

He pocketed his phone and flipped his leather jacket on. “You need to see what you’re protecting,” His voice was unusually stern and it sent shivers down my spine. Angry, barely contained shivers that I rejected with every single fiber of my being. The dream was circling my head like blood in a drain and I could barely look Nevada in the face. “You need to see how important keeping me alive and doing your work diligently is. Tienes suerte de que ya estabas despierto. Let’s go.” I shook my head and sighed, but I didn’t argue. Nevada’s mood swings were beginning to give me whiplash but by the look on Gabby’s face it was nothing new. I sighed and followed them out of the house, finally shaking the dream from my head when I shivered, scampering into the back of the SUV. I slid over to sit behind Gabby so that if Nevada needed to talk- or order me around- he could. “Where’s Leo?” I mumbled, “Don’t you take him out on shit like this?”

“He’s already at the warehouse,” Gabby explained, “Men called out and said that they had someone there who was stealin’. Jefe sent him out to keep the guy cornered ‘til we got there.” I snorted and leaned back into the seat, trying not to doze off. All I wanted to do was sleep off the buzzing in my body or maybe take something to get rid of it.

“You gotta problem with that?” Nevada growled, “He’s my dog, no matter what you think, takin’ him into your room to sleep.” He glared forward and huffed out, “Damn, you’re really grating my nerves today, niño. Don’t make me fuckin’ regret moving you up the ranks so fast, ¿bueno?” My eyebrows shot up as he shit talked me like he owned me but then I remembered that he did, in fact, own me. If I wanted my surgery, then I needed to keep my mouth shut and take whatever Nevada gave me.

“Sorry, Nevada,” I mumbled, “I ain’t gotta problem with that. You’re just gonna end up with a dead dog one day if you’re not careful.” All he did was suck his teeth as Gabby pulled into a warehouse, the doors closing behind the SUV. It was when Gabby put it in park that he spoke up again.

“Leave us, Gabby. Tell them I’ll be out in a couple of minutes to deal with the thief.” One simple sentence sent my dream rushing into my head again chased with fear that turned my blood to ice. I stiffened when Nevada turned to me, fire burning behind his designer sunglasses, even though it was night. He was basically shaking with rage as he stared me down, killing me with his eyes, “I don’t know what game you’re playing, aye? I don’t know why you think you can make those noises at night, okay? Then takin’ a shower?”

I gaped, sitting up, “Yo, Nevada, can we not talk about what I do at night?” He leered at me, a wide smile that sent shivers down my spine.

“Our rooms are right next to each other, chico, I hear everythin’. Who you takin’ home without my permission?” My chest heaved when I figured out what he thought, trying to think through stories that I could tell him. Would it be better to tell him I had taken someone home with me or to tell him I was sleeping? “How’d you get her in?”

“How do you know it was a girl?” I snarked, but immediately regretted it because Nevada’s hand shot out and twisted in my flannel, jerking my body over the center console so he could sit forward and glare down at me. I grabbed onto his wrist in a vain attempt to steady myself but it didn’t work. Pain shot through my entire body as it was dragged toward him and twisted in ways it shouldn’t have been.

“You fuckin’ a man in my house? In a bed I gave you? You fuckin’ stupid? Christ, Jonah, I thought you woulda known better. You want me to kill you, because I’ll kill you.”

“Nevada,” I gasped, “I wasn’t fucking anyone,” I stared up at him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth, “There was nobody in my room. I was just givin’ you shit, I swear, I swear.” For the second time since I had been face to face with Nevada Ramirez and felt bone melting fear. He could have easily killed me at that moment but I watched realization dawn on him.

I flailed out as Nevada dropped me and got out of the SUV and I curled in on myself as I fell over the seat and ended up tangle in my own limbs on the floor. I barely had time to tumble from the SUV before Nevada slammed the door and wiped his thumb under his lip, looking over Gabby and some other men who were trying to pretend like they didn’t see what happened. I picked myself up and dusted myself off.

“Let’s go, Jonah,” Nevada called sharply, “We need to go see the thief.” I nodded and huffed as I stood, following him obediantly. A man who looked too short to be anymore than sixteen showed Nevada to a back room. We passed stacks of boxes filled with- fireworks? I ran my finger along a bottle rocket and then the top popped off, revealing a wad of drugs. I looked forward to Nevada and then decided to catch up instead of investigate.

What were they doing? Filling fireworks with drugs? It wasn’t a bad idea, but what did they do with the innards of the fireworks? Surely they could sell those for a profit, too, but that would be nothing but dangerous. Too many bad people- I snorted as the teenager held the door for us- because I was surrounded by bad people.

I was one of those bad people.

I had tortured a man, inked his skin with Nevada’s name. I had made him beg for his life and then left him in Nevada’s hands to either be killed or tortured more. What had happened to Jeremiah? I would have pondered more on the fate of him but then I took in the situation in front of me, standing to Nevada’s right as he crossed his arms. Leo sat in front of a man who was trying to look brave in the face of a very scary doberman who looked like royalty. When I saw Gabby glaring at the man and I tried to seem hard and scary but I knew that if Nevada needed me that I would be terrifying.

“So,” Nevada drawled, “You tryin’ to steal.”

“Yeah,” The man shivered, “Yeah, I am.”

“You _were_ ,” I corrected boldly, “You were trying to steal because you’re a dead dumbass if you’re still tryin’ to steal when we’re right here.” Nevada gave me a side eye still filled with anger and I stepped back, shutting my mouth.

“Jonah is right. And Jonah has a job to do, don’t you, chico? Here.” He passed me a knife and I spun in it my hands before looking back to him.

“What do you want me to do to him, Jefe? Kill him?” And the thought didn’t even faze me even though it made me a little nervous. My stomach turned when Nevada smirked and pulled out a cigarette.

“Do whatever feels right, niño.”


	12. 12.

I pushed through the crowd to the room where Nevada was sitting, surrounded by his men and girls who were begging him for attention.

My hands and arms were still bloodied, but I had changed out of the clothing and grabbed my motorcycle.

Nevada was still mad at me, or mad about me, or something so he barely instructed people to move over when I showed up, but they did. I sat down next to a girl with shaved, blue hair and a tongue ring. She latched onto my side and began caressing my neck with her nails, eliciting a sigh from my stress worn body.

Nevada’s eyes flickered over to me, but I didn’t care. I turned to her and let her run a palm down my chest, trying to lose myself in her touch. I didn’t know her name and she didn’t know mine, but we kissed slowly anyways and it helped: for a little bit.

Just when I began moving my hand under her tank top and kissing her neck Nevada stood and shoved his girl away from him. He began ordering everyone out and I stood, ready to leave, but he gripped onto my shoulder.

I stopped dead in my tracks and my stomach dropped. I knew that I was in trouble then and I worked through what I had done at the warehouse to see if I had done something wrong. Finally the last person left and it was just Nevada and I. He circled me like a shark, glancing over my body before settling his eyes on my hands. He lifted one hand and gently pressed down on one of my knuckles. I hissed and shoved his hand away, the fire igniting in his eyes once more. Nevada pushed me back and then grabbed my collar before landing a hard punch to my jaw with his other hand.

“Nevada!” I shouted, struggling away from him. He hit me twice and then let me go, but I didn’t leave it there. I had to let Nevada know that I wasn’t going to take his shit so I threw all my weight into a punch. It knocked him back and he turned to face me slowly with a small trickle of blood from his lip. I threw two more punches before Nevada managed to get me off balance and I crashed to the ground.

He was on me in a second, hands fisting my shirt as he heaved breath two inches from my face, “Why do you insist on fuckin’ people in front of me? Aye?” I struggled and Nevada pressed his knuckles into my throat. “My men ain’t gotta ask when they fuck but you do, yeah? I can’t stand seeing someone all over you.” My hips jerked up to try and get Nevada off of me but then I froze- and so did Nevada. He was hard in his jeans and my breath stopped and I met Nevada’s eyes. He was bubbling with anger and shame, but I couldn’t blame him.

“Why am I different?” I whispered, “Just let me fuck after what you put me through today. I _killed_ a man, Nevada, I need to burn off some nervous energy.” I choked out a cough as his hands tightened on my neck and he pressed his nose into my cheek. “Fuck, Nevada, what are you doin’?” He groaned and then mouthed at my neck, dropping his body onto mine. I could feel his boner pressing against me and my dream came back to me. I gave way to him and then Nevada finally let my throat go to hold himself above me as I grabbed his face and kissed him.

First, he recoiled but as I kissed him and rolled my hips against his Nevada kissed me back fiercely, our blood mixing on our faces. I didn’t know what was happening but the music from the club was bumping in my chest and Nevada was a dead weight on my body that felt good. It had been so long since I had felt that weight and it didn’t help that Nevada was an attractive, dominant man. Just what I liked.

“Fuck,” I breathed, Nevada rolling his hips again, “Oh, hell.” He smirked and pushed my shirt up and off of my body, massaging small circles in my stomach. I pushed his jacket off, stretching to kiss him as I unbuttoned the black shirt he was wearing, exposing thick chest hair and strong shoulders. He was already unbuttoning his pants so I dropped my hand to wrangle my jeans over my hips and ass, pushing down the jock strap that held my packer in place.

“This is too complicated,” Nevada growled into my neck before flipping us over, jerking off the rest of my clothing off before twisting his fingers into the hair on the back of my head. I groaned and let him suck a dark mark into my neck as I ground my bare hips down against his jeans. I worked on disrobing him but Nevada caught my wrists and held them as he pulled his jeans down and pushed his boxers down far enough to free his cock. I shuddered and smirked as Nevada kissed me. He let my wrists go to guide me so I grabbed onto his hair and his ribs, sighing into his lips as we shuddered together. Nevada set a rough pace, thrusting up with surprisingly strong thighs and hips. It was like nothing I had ever felt and the feeling of Nevada filling me up, of holding me in a bruising grip on bruises already formed.

I sighed as Nevada snapped his hips once, hard, and I pressed an open mouth kiss to him, hands scratching down his sides. He cupped my ass and sat up. “Nevada, come the fuck on,” I snapped.

A gasp ripped from me when Nevada pushed me onto the floor, getting a better angle to fuck me. I hooked an ankle around his hip and used his neck to pull him closer to me, nuzzling and searching for the intimacy that Nevada would probably never give me.

But he did.

Nevada pushed just as close to me as I was to him, wrapping me up in his arms. He gasped into my neck, cursing the whole time, as I stared at the ceiling over Nevada’s shoulder. “Hell,” I gasped, “Hell, damn, fuck. Nevada- ‘Vada- Nev,” I was saying his name in a prayer to the Gods I didn’t believe in, “Yeah,”

Nevada let out a long sigh that sounded like my name, “Shit, chico,” His pace was still rapid and bruising as he fucked me and he dropped one hand down to circle over my clit. I squirmed under him because, damn, Nevada was amazing. He knew how to move and he knew how to fuck me because before I knew it I was coming, scratching down his back as I gasped his name below him. Nevada came barely three seconds later, stilling as his body bowed in on itself and he kissed at my jaw. We heaved in breath together, piles of sweat and bliss, before fear washed through my stomach and drove away all of the bliss from my orgasm. I had just slept with Nevada Ramirez- drug lord, murderer, gang leader. My boss.

He seemed to realize it at the same time but he still laid on me, breathing hard. “We have to get dressed,” He said, “And then you’re going to get up and you’re going to tell the rest of mi hombres that I beat the shit out of you. Entiendes?” He pulled away and righted himself, tucking himself back into his boxers and buttoning his jeans, “And then I’ll see you at the house.”

He dressed and smoothed his hair before dressing, leaving me on the ground, naked. It was nearly five minutes before I could pull myself together, incoherently dressing and making myself look as miserable as I could. The stumbling that I did when I fell out of the door what real because I could barely stand upright, legs like jelly and a mind whirling. Gabby sighed and shook his head as I wiped a very real stream of blood from under my nose and mouth, spitting the same, red fluid onto the ground. “Aye,” I coughed toward Gabby, more beat up from my sparring session with Nevada than I thought, “Who wants to call me a cab?”


	13. 13.

The only reason that I didn’t hear Nevada enter my room is because I was sitting in the corner, headphones on, as I researched surgeons on my laptop.

I had found a couple, two in New York and one in Texas, that would do the surgery but the prices were more than I had estimated. It would take me nearly a year to get the money if Nevada kept paying me 2,000 dollars a job- and that didn’t cover recovery time or all of the after care.

I was ready to rip my hair out when the music I listened to lulled to a stop and I heard a rustle from above me. I jumped and ripped my headphones out, gasping, “Fuck, Nevada.” He smirked down on me and gestured for me to get up.

I obliged and then he kicked my legs out from under my, sending my body crashing half on my bed and half on the platform. The air rushed out of me and Nevada stood above me, glaring down. I didn’t say anything- and actually hadn’t said anything to him since we fucked on the floor of his club a month prior. The most I had seen Nevada was when he slipped notes under my door or when Gabby collected me so I could fuck someone up.

So when Nevada began unbuckling his belt and pants, I tried to stand up. “No, get back down,” He growled, “I don’t got time to fuck with yo’ attitude today, Jonah.” My breathing took a turn and sped up as he slipped his hand into his pants, stroking hard and fast, “Had a bad day,” He growled, “I need you to help me out.” For a split second I questioned why I was half laying half sitting, but then I understood.

“You want me to suck your cock?” I asked incredulously, “The _fuck_ would I suck your cock for?” He growled again, animalistic and deep in his chest before reaching down to jerk my head toward his crotch, “Fuck,” I gasped, pissed off and turned on, “If you don’t have time for my attitude does that mean you ain’t got time to return the favor?”

Nevada, like the animal of a man he was, jerked me closer to his crotch and I balanced myself by grasping the back of each of his thighs. He pulled his cock out of his pants and I sighed before looking up at him. Was I really going to suck his cock? Was I going to let him come into my room and demand it of me like a common whore, like a live in whore? The answer, as I sucked on the tip of his cock, was yes.

Yes, I was going to give Nevada a blowjob.

Yes, I was going to moan like a live in whore.

_Yes, I was going to love it._

I was going to love he noises Nevada was making above me, the way his hands curled in my hair and pulled me closer. The way his hips snapped and he fucked my mouth, begged me to take it, called me Pichoncito, and prayed. He lasted longer than I had ever thought he could and when he came Nevada pulled out of my mouth to come on my face, collapsing after. I dropped back, leaning my head against the mattress as I gasped for air. Nevada pulled his body completely away from me before he pulled my shirt off of my body, using it to clean his come off of my face before he jerked me onto the mattress. I pushed him away before he could dip between my legs and stared at him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I hissed, “Nevada, look, man, you’ve got a nice cock but as far as I know, and I’ve _heard_ , you’re the straightest man in the fuckin’ Heights. If you think that you’re fuckin’ a girl here, pal, you’re wrong.” His eyes were dark as he stared at me from on his knees, chest heaving.

“I don’t know,” He answered in a soft, deep voice, “I don’t know what I’m doin’. Sigo escuchando sus sonidos. Puedo sentir tu cuerpo contra el mío mientras yo estoy durmiendo.” I shivered when he dipped to kiss my bare stomach, “Nunca he sentido atraído por un hombre. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

I dropped back against my bed as he sucked a hickey just under my belly button, cocking my legs up so my feet were pressed flat against the bed. His hands found mine and guided them to his hair, kissing closer to the line of my jeans against my skin. I gasped when he popped the button of my jeans with his teeth, hands still holding mine to his head. He was moving slower than when he first entered my room, looking for his cock to get sucked. I didn’t know why but I wasn’t going to complain as Nevada patiently removed everything between him and going down on me.


	14. 14.

After Nevada pressed his face into my neck and then whisked himself away I laid in bed, covered in a thin layer of sweat and confusion.

He had left a note and a request to go pay an outstanding bill for an attorney. I had nodded, sated by an orgasm, and stayed in bed for nearly fifteen minutes.

Then, after I dressed, I snatched up the paper and left to search for Nevada in the wide expanse of his house. I found him thumbing money onto the counter, counting silently. It reminded me of the way my father used to do it, a snot-nosed dealer who was nothing but a bitch. Nevada turned to me when I entered the kitchen, Leo’s head perking up from his place at Nevada’s feet.

“You’re kidding right?” I grumbled, “You’re sending me into a precinct? I’ve killed three people, Nevada, and we don’t know if they know it.”

He chuckled and shook his head, wrapping a rubber band around the wad of cash, holding it out to me, “No saben, chico. I promise. Take Leo with you, if you’re that worried.” I eyed him, gritting my jaw before nodding and whistling for Leo. The dog jumped up, tail wagging, and sat down at my feet. Extending my hand to pat the top of his head, I smarted off.

“Yes, just take a damn drug lord’s dog into a cop shop where I fuckin’ know people.” Nevada snorted, “Christ, Nev, you’re gonna get me fuckin’ arrested and then I’m gonna be pissed.” His face hardened as he stepped toward me, fisting the shoulder of my black shirt in his strong hand. I leaned into his touch, especially when his lips dropped to suck a hickey in my neck, my sighs echoing through the kitchen.

“We’ll talk when you get home, Pichoncito,” He smirked, “Or maybe we won’t. But you get this shit done and we’ll talk.” I jerked away, slapping his hand away from my neck. Leo growled low in his throat but his eyes flickered between Nevada and I like he wasn’t sure who to defend. “Oye, what’s your fuckin’ problem, chico?”

“You gonna talk in Spanish, aye?” I snapped, “You know I don’t fuckin’ know Spanish and I don’t want you saying oh, we’ll talk when you get home and then bustin’ out the Spanish like you just did!” When his hand rose again I slapped it down and spit on the floor, “I’m not kiddin’, Nevada. If we’re gonna talk, we’re gonna talk in English.”

“Fine, fine,” He held up his hands and said something in Spanish to the dog, who shuffled closer to me, “Voy a hablar en Inglés, sólo para ti, chico blanco.” I smacked his arm, baring my teeth, “Aye, sorry, sorry!” He laughed, smile crinkling his eyes. I stopped for a moment and was taken aback when it made him warmer, much more handsome. He was like a whole different person, a lighter person.

And as soon as it happened it was gone, and I was staring at the Nevada I knew once more: cold, heartless. For some reason I was just as fond of that Nevada as the laughing Nevada, the one who had joy in his eyes. Both of them were nice to me, helped me get what I needed, helped me when I was shaking too hard to shoot someone in the head.

I ran my fingers over Leo’s head as he looked up with me, a smile on his dog-like face. “I’ll go,” I finally sighed, “I’ll fuckin’ go, but you owe me. You owe me big.” I clicked my fingers at him and then Leo, snatching the money and shoving it in my waistband as I went.

“I’m already doin’ enough shit for you, Pichoncito,” Nevada called, grin and malic and his voice, “I gave you a job, a house, my protection, and the best damn orgasms of your life!” I snorted and grabbed Leo’s leash from next to the door. I hooked it on and met Gabby by the SUV, putting Leo in the backseat.

“Aye, mornin’ Gabby,” I grinned at him, “You know where I’m goin’?” He grinned at me and started the truck, backing out.

“Yeah,” He said gruffly, “I’m supposed to leave you there, Jefe’ll pick you up. I’ve never seen someone climb the rank so fast.” Leo, in the backseat, barked at a dog on the street and I looked at Gabby, raising one eyebrow. I scoffed before I replied.

“Yeah, because I’m sure movin’ up the ranks. Doin’ Nevada’s dirty work ‘nd goin’ to a place full’a cops.” We both shared a laugh and Gabby shook his head.

“Look, kid, you ‘meber Jose?” I nodded, “You know what they call him? They call him Ureña. Ureña was Trujillo’s second in command from thirty to thirty two, you know? Trujillo goes to Ureña when he needs somethin’.”

“What does this have to do with me? So they call him Ureña, so they call Nevada Trujillo. What does that matter?”

“Well,” Gabby said slowly, turning closer to the precinct, “The streets have given you a nickname, also, chico. They call you Peynado.” I cocked an eyebrow and shrugged. “Peynado is the vice president that came after Ureña. There is talk that he is training you to become the new rey de las alturas. The new king of the Heights.”

“Who is sayin’ this?” My jaw was clenched, the thought both angering me and scaring me. “It sounds like bullshit.” Gabby only shrugged.

“Like I said, Jonah, the streets. They talk ‘nd they’re talking ‘bout you and Jefe. To me you seem more like a Maria Martínez de Trujillo but who am I to talk?” I scowled, resenting the idea that I was Nevada’s wife or his bitch, and the rest of the ride was silent, except for Leo’s barking and breathing in the backseat.

When I bid goodbye to Gabby and walked Leo up to the floor that I needed, my heart began pounding. I knew that I would see Levi there and he might arrest me, but I had a job to do and certainly a doberman snarling at my side would get my point across. I stepped into the room and saw the attorney, all greasy black hair and skeevy smile, talking with Levi and a man dressed to the nines. I called his name- Geoff- and he turned before looking toward his phone.

A sick smile crawled across his face as he broke away from the conversation and strode toward me, one hand out for a handshake. I clapped him close and put my best snarl on my face. “Geoff, Nevada sends his regards.”

“And his dog,” The man’s Brooklyn accent was thick and I raised an eyebrow.

“Are you goin’ to leave the audience or are we goin’ to talk later?” Thankfully Geoff’s strong shoulders blocked Levi from seeing me, but the moment he moved my friend locked in on me and strode my way. I jerked Leo back and shushed him with a snap of my fingers.

“Jonah!” He exclaimed, pulling me into a tight hug, “Man, you just disappeared!” He was dressed sharply but spoke without cursing or leaving his words unfinished and it was unlike the Levi I knew. “Are you alright?”

I nodded, “I’m doin’ good, my man. How’a you? Logan good? Makin’ friends with New York’s finest?” I snuck a look around the room where people were regarding me with wary eyes, “Mentionin’ my name much, bro?” His eyes tightened like his grip on my shoulder, the smile falling from his face.

“I wish. I’d do anythin’ to arrest you right now, J.”

“Shit, there’s the Levi I know!” I called jovially, jerking away, “Now if you’re done playin’ two face, I have an appointment with my man Geoff.” I gestured behind me and glared at him, pulling the leash in my hand tighter, “And unless you have evidence, I suggest that you don’t mention those cuffs again, boy.” I pointed a heavy finger at him and let him know I wasn’t fucking around. Levi recoiled and bared his teeth at me, taking the steps forward to match mine backward.

“You’ve changed, Jonah. You ain’t nothin’ but Trujillo’s bitch now. Don’t think Log and I don’t hear the talk, aye? Oye, Peynado got Emilia yesterday. Peynado left me a message, I better get Trujillo’s dinero a él. We hear it and when we get shit for you, we gonna come for you.” I smirked, knowing that Geoff would get me out. That’s what Nevada paid him for.

Levi seemed to realize that seconds after he began speaking and his eyes flickered to the greasy man. “And Geoff? Olivia wants me to tell you that you’re fired.” I winked at a tall, blond man before leading Geoff into the elevator, turning to him and flashing the cash held in the waistband of my jeans.

“Got your shit, man. Sorry you just lost your job.”

“I was quitting anyways, man. Nevada’s got a much better deal than this shithole.” We laughed and then the elevator opened and we stepped out together. “Your friend isn’t wrong. We hear a lot about you, Peyando.”

“Don’t call me that,” I snarled, “I don’t care what Trujillo said, I don’t care what the streets say. You ain’t gonna call me Peynado ‘less I tell you to.” He held his hands up, briefcase hanging from one of his thumbs.

“You’re the boss, Gleam.” When we stepped outside I pulled the money and clasped him on the lower back, slipping it into his back pocket. It was inconspicuous enough and nobody noticed as we bid goodbye and went our separate ways. I saw Nevada trailing me from a couple yards back but I ignored him, talking sweetly to Leo before ducking around a corner and disappearing into a bar. I knew Nevada was following me, getting angrier, and then he grabbed me. Leo growled and barked, drawing attention to us in the back room of a shitty bar. One look from Nevada made the owner backtrack and shut the door, giving us all the privacy we needed.

“Aye, you knew I was there.”

“I did. But, I just handed off ten thousand dollars and I needed a drink.” He snorted, “I found out what people are callin’ me. Callin’ me Peynado, Trujillo. You understand that? What fuckin’ game you playin’? I need to know. You trainin’ me to take over your shit?” He looked over his shoulder.

“Let’s go home, Pichoncito. We’ll talk there, ya sabes?” My jaw worked at the nickname but I let Nevada guide me out of the backroom of the bar and toward a taxi. Leo hopped in and settled his head on my lap, his body on Nevada’s.

* * *

Leo ran off as soon as Nevada opened the door and dismissed the guard in front of it, leash dragging behind him. I didn’t bother to chase after the dog because I knew he would be settled on Nevada’s silk sheets, taking a midday nap like he liked to. I ended up in the kitchen, pouring myself a shot, before Nevada hijacked it and swallowed it before I could protest.

“Bro, come on.”

 _“Bro, come on,”_ He mocked, smirking at me before grabbing another shot glass to pour one for both of us.”You talk like a fuckin’ child.” He clinked the shot glasses together and we took them. The alcohol burned but Nevada grinning at me pushed it all away.

I took the time as he poured another into our glasses to mull over my life. Why was I so happy with Nevada? Why did he calm me down? Why was I taking shots with a drug lord, grinning like a fool because his hands lingered on mine and his body moved closer to me as I took a shot?

As the alcohol burned down my throat and Nevada’s hands wandered under my shirt, I figured it was probably because I was bat shit crazy. I was okay with that, though, as Nevada nipped at my neck, sighing against my skin.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, letting his body back me against the counter. Nevada hiked one of my legs around his waist and clenched a hand around my ribs. “Fuck, Nevada,” I sighed, turned on incredibly, “We need to talk.”

“I can make you scream,” He snickered, capturing my lips in an open mouthed kiss. I jerked my hips toward him and made him groan. “I can make you talk and beg and plead.” I let my head fall against the cabinets so Nevada could jerk my shirt off, fingers tweaking my nipple causing me to gasp.

“Fuck, no, Nevada,” His name came out in a breathy moan as he leaned down to suck a hickey against my collarbone. “Nevada, please, I don’t fuckin’ know what’s goin’ on and I need to.” He sighed and pulled back, shirt dropping off of his shoulders.

“I’m trying to fuck you, Jonah. Eso es lo que está sucediendo.” I nodded and Nevada wrapped one hand around my throat, the other popping the button on my jeans. “Fuck, you’re so hot.” I let him pull my jeans off but stopped him when he was going to pull of my briefs. He complained with a scowl but I pushed him off anyway. “Come on Jonah, let’s fuck and then we’ll talk.”

“Nevada,”

 _“Nevada!”_ He mocked again.

“I’m not fuckin’ you unitl we talk about what you said this mornin’.” I said with a firm voice, even though my hand was palming him through his jeans. “You were speakin’ Spanish so I didn’t understand shit.” He tried to be mad at me but I cupped him roughly, dragging the nails of my other hand down his back as I did. Nevada moaned, deep in his chest and then growled, pulling away.

“Fuckin’ fine, we’ll talk. But you’re gonna obey _my_ rules.” He bent to grasp his shirt, pulling it back on and buttoning it up, “Get dressed. Meet me in my room.” I obeyed, taking a moment of pause to take another shot- maybe actually three- because I was so sure that if I asked Nevada what I wanted to I was not going to get the answer I wanted. I had so many questions spinning in my head, so many things I wanted to say but then I entered Nevada’s room and my mouth went dry.

I wasn’t sure if I could even speak, because Nevada was there, naked on his bed. Leo was nowhere to be seen but I wasn’t really focused on that: I was focused on the way he lazily stroked himself, eyes on the doorway as he waited for me.

“For each question you ask you gotta strip somethin’ off. If you don’t like my answer, you put it back on. You good with that?” He smirked, like it was a game, and I guess to a man like Nevada it was. I nodded anyway, even though it pissed me off.

“Fine,” I growled, “How come you ain’t playin’ this game, too? How come you already naked and rubbin’ one out?” He smirked.

“I am El Jefe, Pichoncito. I make the rules. Usted los sigue. Come, sit next to me.” He shuddered as his thumb rubbed over the tip of his penis. “First question.” My mind was tumbling over itself, trying to think of what article of clothing I would remove first, which question I should have asked. It was hard to concentrate with Nevada looking totally debauched next to me, arm moving slowly as if he was teasing himself.

“Why did you fuck me in the club?” My shirt hit the floor and Nevada cracked his eyes open to run over my body as he bit his lip. He groaned and stopped his hand to sit up, running his hands over my exposed flesh. I felt a shiver run through me. Patiently, though, I waited for an answer. Nevada was a dirty man, skeevy, but he would answer me no matter what. It was his part of the deal.

“Because I couldn’t get my mind off of you. After I saw you get fucked up by Jeremiah, after I watched that porn you were in, after I saw that girl all over you… I needed to have you.” I didn’t put my shirt back on and instead I leaned back against his naked, flushed body. My brain was frying trying to think about what to ask next because his answer was too… Perfect for a man like Nevada.

“Why did you come to me today?”

“Take off your pants,” He said huskily behind me, “I’ll answer when you take off your pants.” I struggled them off and Nevada’s arm hooked around my waist, bringing me flush with his front as he let his legs dangle off the edge of the bed. I could feel his erection pressing into my lower back as he breathed heavily against my neck. “You’re fuckin’ amazing. The noise you make, the work you do… Nng,” His knuckles rubbed against my skin as he began jerking himself again, slowly, leisurely, like he didn’t care if he came or not. “When I see you covered in blood I just- fuck. It gets me going.” I was surprised that Nevada had a blood kink but then I remembered him beating my ass before he fucked me and it made a lot more sense, “You just get me going and I don’t understand it.” The most I could do was lean back against him, nodding. I had three more articles of clothing- my briefs, my packer, and my jockstrap. And, yes, I was going to count my packer as an article of clothing because I was afraid that Nevada wouldn’t let me ask any more questions without clothing. I pulled away and stood, ready to peel off my briefs.

“What did,” I swallowed heavily, my eyes raking over his body. The flush traveled from his cock to his chest, all the way to the top of his cheekbones. “What did you say to me today? Just before you went down on me?” He licked his lips before once again stopping the motion of his hand. It took me a few seconds to realize he was edging himself, stopping just before he came. The thought was extremely fucking hot to me so I thought, you know, if Nevada was teasing himself I could do it too.

“I still hear your sounds. I can feel your body against mine while I’m sleeping. I’ve never been attracted to a man.” He breathed softly between each word, eyes glued to my hips. Instead of pushing down my briefs I reached a hand into them, removing my packer and tossing it onto the bedside table. Nevada groaned and finally made eye contact with me, and I watched him half lidded with lust. He licked his lips. I wanted to kiss the lips, make him moan underneath me.

“Do you think I am a man?”

“You are one of the best men I’ve ever met. You’re too good for me.” The answer was instantaneous and it warmed the pits of my belly. An unknown emotion grew there, prodding at the back of my mind. I didn’t want to look into what Nevada said too much because, well, he was Nevada. He was a man who took what he wanted and fucked who he wanted and didn’t give a shit about who he fucked.

And I was one of the people who he fucked.

I pushed down my briefs and hesitated before asking another question. I was still stuck on Nevada not caring about me, about the nickname the streets gave me, about the nickname Nevada gave me. It was all too much and trying to sift through confusion and lust at the same time was harder than taking a human life.

“Man,” I thought out loud, “I’m more fucked up than I thought.”

Nevada laughed, deep and in his chest, eyes lighting up with joy, “You’re perfectly fucked up, Pichoncito. Fucked up in all the best ways. You gotta’nother question for me? I want you naked.” I nodded as he began stroking himself again, eyeing my body.

“Tell me how you feel about me while you fuck me.”

“That isn’t a question.”

“Will you tell me how you really feel about me while you fuck me?”

“You’re such a needy lil’ fucker, aren’t you?” Nevada grinned wolfishly, ripping off my jock strap and pulling me into his bed, “Got such a pretty ‘lil body, too, Pichoncito.” I nodded as he worked two fingers inside of me, second knuckle deep in barely a second. I gasped and nodded underneath him, the feeling of silk sheets underneath me and Nevada’s strong, muscular body above me sending my senses into overdrive. I wrapped my fingers in his hair and pulled his mouth to mine while my other hand cupped his ass. I could feel his erection pressing tight against my thighs as he blanketed my body, working another finger inside of me.

I felt full and sated, but I knew Nevada wanted more by the way he wantonly moaned in my ear with just three fingers inside of me. “You gonna answer me, or am I gonna put my briefs back on?”

“Just come once for me, Pichoncito. Once.”

I nodded and his hand stopped moving. I cursed because he was going to make me work for it. I began moving my hips, clutching onto his shoulders as I fucked myself onto his fingers. “Hng, fuck, Nevada!” I whined, “Nev-Nev-” Squishing my eyes closed I leaned back as he crooked his fingers as I moved my hips, pleasure radiating through my body. When I came I was silent, head pressed backward as far as it would go.

Nevada cursed and his cock throbbed against my bare skin as he tried to hold off. My breathing was heavy and Nevada kissed his way into my mouth, sighing through his nose. After a while Nevada pushed his cock into me, filling me up perfectly. He stayed still, kissing me leisurely, running his hands down my sides. I massaged his shoulders as he kissed me, whining underneath him. Nevada was a god above me, getting me going without even thrusting into me.

“Nev, please,” I whispered, “I want you to get off. I want to feel you get off.” He moaned into my sweaty skin, nodding as he began to thrust. Slow at first but then Nevada increased his speed gasping in time with his fast, shallow thrusts. “Tell me,” I begged, “Nevada, tell me.”

“Say my name again,” He moaned, _“I want you to say my name.”_

“Nevada, I need to know how you feel.” I moaned as he thumbed my clit, pushing one of my legs to wrap around his back. My eyes fell shut and my hands clutched the silk sheets instead of his skin as Nevada’s thrusts got slower, deeper, and longer.

“Your body,” He gasped, “Your voice, your strength.” I moaned and Nevada silenced himself with a hard bite at my shoulder, “I like how you hit people, I like the way your muscles move. Nnng,” Nevada stopped, a hand wrapping around the base of his cock to keep himself from coming. “I like,” He gasped, “I like the way you call me Nev when I get you too worked up.” He thrust again, grunting as his skin smacked against mine, “I like how you such my cock. I like how you- euff- I like how you came to me and how,” Nevada wheezed as his face blossomed red. “How you don’t care to get your hands dirty.”

I moaned and felt my second orgasm approaching as I met Nevada’s thrusts halfway, my hips meeting his. I had never came twice before and it was frustrating me- because while Nevada was busy getting off I was trying, working so hard toward my second orgasm for the first time in my life.

The man on top of me shuddered as he came, wrapping me in sweaty arms as he pressed heavy kisses to my neck. I whined but let it go, settling for pulling Nevada closer to me with heavy hands on his lower back.

“Come on, Jonah,” He whispered, “One more time for me.”

Ever so slowly his hips began to move again, his jaw slack against my neck as he shuddered through the overstimulation. “I know you were almost there, come on, Pichoncito, por favor.” I shook my head, nearly there, but it was the same feeling I got when I forgot words and they were on the tip of my tongue.

“I’ve never- Never come twice.” I groaned deep in my chest as Nevada sucked a hickey onto my chest, still thrusting through his oversensitivity. He was shuddering and groaning, almost in pain, but then I finally came again, scratching at him back and howling his name, his hands holding his hips pressed against his. I pulled him as close as I could because I needed the stability of his strong, flushed body. “Nnng,” I sighed, turning my head to the side as fatigue washed over me, “Nevada…” I sighed, “That was…”

“Lo sé,” He sighed through his nose, pulling back and detaching his body from me. I shivered when the air around us hit my sweaty body, but the shiver was followed by Nevada pulling me into his body, under the blanket that he had pushed away. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion when Nevada held me to his chest, kissing down my neck. “I know. You’re amazing, Pichoncito, asombroso.” He was being gentle, rubbing circles into my lower stomach as he kept kissing my neck.

“Nevada…” I mumbled, “What’s? I don’t understand.”

“Not today, tesoro. Not today, okay? Tomorrow.” I nodded and turned my head to kiss him slowly before tipping off into sleep.


	15. 15.

“Jefe,” A voice roused me from the best sleep I had ever had, “We’ve got a problem. Lou wants to negotiate.” I felt Nevada snort, his laughter rumbling through my chest from where it was pressed to his.

“Sure, Jose.” Nevada drawled lazily, his hand massaging my lower back under the cover, “Tell Lou to go fuck himself. I don’t negotiate.” I shifted and cracked an eye open to look up Nevada’s strong face, already looking down at me. “Buenos días, Jonah.” He smiled at me and then looked toward the door. “Aye? You gonna tell him to fuck off or am I gonna have to make Jonah get out of bed?”

Retreating footsteps made me relax, closing my eyes and pressing my face to his neck, the musk of day old sex still lingering. “Good mornin’,” I grumbled, “You ain’t gonna hunt Jose down or shove me outta the bed?”

“He won’t say anything.”

“Okay,” I mumbled, nodding, using my legs to pull myself closer to Nevada, “I want to go back t’sleep.” Nevada’s lips brushed against my forehead, hand slipping to my ass and squeezing. I smirked and Nevada moved down to mouth against my neck. “You’re horny.” Nevada smiled at me as I opened my eyes to gaze at him, face framed by the sunlight in the window. He looked beautiful and I trailed my fingers gently against his cheekbone, “You’re soft in the morning.”

Nevada snorted and glared at me, but I just smirked and clarified, “You’re not as mean, that’s what I meant. Calm down, Nev.” He turned to nip at my fingers before pushing his body over until his weight was completely on top of mine. He was just gazing at me, hands laying dormant on my body. It was a new side to Nevada and his weight, and his heat, was lulling me back to sleep. I was nearly there when Nevada sat up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back. Necesito hablar con José sobre Lou. You can get dressed if y’want, but I’d much rather come home to you waitin’ for me.” Nevada smirked at me and then dressed before I could blink, striding out the door. I laid in bed before reaching over the edge to grab my boxers, looking at my ripped jockstrap.

“Christ, Nevada,” I grumbled, “This is the second jockstrap…” My back popped as I stretched, examining the bruises and scratches Nevada left in the mirror across from the bed. I looked hot- hotter than normal. Had I not been living and working for Nevada I would have gone back into porn; I looked better as a disheveled, post-sex man than a woman. Ten minutes passed and I realized I was still checking myself out and my face burned red.

* * *

The door shut when I was leaning against the kitchen counter, picking from a bowl of chips and puffing on a cigarette. “Nevada?” His name echoed through the apartment and as I turned to look at him as he stumbled into the kitchen. He was covered in anger and blood, hands clenched at his sides. “What happened?”

“Lou put up a fight. I’m gonna need you tonight.” I nodded and put out my cigarette on the counter, leaning against it. I was peacocking for Nevada, wearing nothing but briefs. I knew he liked seeing my body spread out. Nevada barely glanced my way, instead settling his body into a chair, sighing. “Do you need to talk about last night?” He grumbled, “If it weren’t you, I wouldn’t’vn mentioned it.” Looking at him I could see the stress lines on his shoulders, the way he spoke to the table instead of me.

“Maybe later,” I conceded, “It’s cold as balls in here, man, I gotta go get dressed.” Neither of us moved until I unglued myself and began pattering toward my bedroom, planning out what i was going to wear in my head. Maybe a nice denim shirt- a button up, with black jeans? That would look nice together. I needed to go buy some Doc Martens because mine were falling apart and I couldn’t put them on to go out-

“Maybe _later_ ,” Nevada mocked me, “I don’t like you in clothes.” I snickered and leaned back against him. “Déjame adivinar: usted quiere hablar.” The Spanish rolled off with a mocking tone and I turned in his arms, kissing just below his adam’s apple.

“I think we should talk before you get any more of this ass.” Nevada groaned, backing away from me and shaking his head.

“Christ, Pichoncito, you know I can get laid somewhere else? I ain’t gotta bed you to get my dick wet.” He snapped. I cocked an eyebrow and shrugged, hiding the slight disappointment on my face.

“I guess that you won’t give’a shit if bring home that redhead you were fuckin’ that one day in the club, then? She sounded like fun.” I gasped and scratched at Nevada’s wrist when his strong hand clasped around my neck. Something inside of me lit up and I gasped, grinning, while I tried to breath. “Nev,” I breathed, my toes scraping the floor as I tried to find purchase, “Either fuck me or kill me, I ain’t playin this game.”

He shoved me back and then ripped off his jacket, grinning in an evil way as he jerked me forward to kiss me fully on the mouth.

* * *

Eventually I did get dressed in the outfit that I had pictured but I was exhausted and debauched and it was after a too long shower to get rid of the sex smell that lingered on my skin. Nevada was waiting in the living room with a lot of men, dressed in a tight white shirt and jeans with shoes more expensive than everything I owned, and he grinned when he saw me.

“Ah, Pichoncito, finally we can go.” I sighed as some of the men smirked around me and I snatched the bag of blow from Nevada’s hands, “You know the place?”

“Same place as always.” I looked at him through my lashes and made my way to the door, “Where are you goin’ tonight? I want in on some of the action.” Jose clapped a hand down on my shoulder and shook me, grinning like a wolf.

“We’re goin’ to North Poles,” He got resounding hoots from the men around us and I could feel the testosterone flood the room, “Got the best bitches and the lowest prices.” I smiled, nodding slowly before peeling open the door. I had heard of the North Poles and it was the only strip joint that actually gave me the creeps. The bar was too dim, the stage was too rickety, the poles looked like they had never been cleaned. Suddenly I was worried about Nevada’s uncovered dick and the four times it had been inside of me- we weren’t worried about pregnancy but had I ever thought about the _other places_ it had been? The thought sent chills running down my spine as I shoved the blow into my crotch, adjusting it until it looked natural and I looked very, _very_ well endowed.

Nevada slipped away from the group of walking men, parting the other pedestrians like the red sea. I could hear them hooting and hollering, excited for a day off. “It’s nice of you, Trujillo,” I smirked at him and his hand fell to my crotch, “You know none’a that’s real, yeah?” He leaned to bite at my lower lip.

“You ain’t got the night off, _Peynado_ ,” He mocked me using his street name but the way he said Peynado sent sinful thoughts spinning through my head. “You gotta make this run’nd pick up my cash with time to get back for’m meetin’.” I snorted and pushed at Nevada’s chest, face darkening.

“The cops gonna pick me up if they see me gettin’ all fresh with you, Trujillo.” He nodded and ran a hand over the scruff on his chin. “I’ll get back on time. Swear. If not, you can fuck me in front of all your friends.”

“What do you get if you get back on time?” When I winked and sucked my middle finger in my mouth Nevada’s eyes darkened and he smirked, “Eres un hombre muy peligroso, Jonas.” He smirked devilishly. “Me gusta.”


	16. 16.

The pass off went great and I hailed a cab to take me to the club and subsequently to Nevada. The taxi driver waved my fee and I grinned devilishly at him before striding confidently into the club. It had been long enough so that my name was spreading through the streets as Nevada’s right-hand man.

Luckily nobody had found out that we had fucked, but they were about to. Nevada was in a tense meeting with a thin man who was wearing a black shirt with the Black Spades logo bleached onto it. Nevada seemed pissed, yet laid back, and I let my body collapse next to him. “Nevada.”

“Jonah,” Nevada pulled me close and blatantly cupped my crotch and nipped at my earlobe, “Say hello to Lou. He’s the big man on campus for the Black Spades.” I moaned as he sucked on my neck, hips undulating up toward his hand. I bit my lip and made eye contact with Lou, who looked horrified.

“He’s like you but weaker,” I smirked and Nevada let out a boisterous laugh, pulling me closer. “He wishes he could be you, Nevada.”

“Aye, watch your fuckin’ mouth, you fuckin’ faggot,” I leapt up, grasping at the man’s throat before tossing him back.

“You watch your fuckin’ mouth, Lou,” I sneered, “Less you wanna suck my dick.” Nevada pulled me back and into his lap, spreading my legs. “You’re lucky that Nevada is here otherwise your ass would be fuckin’ _done_.”

“Calm down, Pichoncito,” Nevada cooed, another hand on my crotch and the other on his Cuban. “Lou is bein’a good boy and he’s givin’ me what I want.” I smiled and let Nevada massage over my body, his lips dragging over my neck as Lou got progressively more uncomfortable. “How ‘bout you give me what I want, too, while we finish talkin’, yeah? Sounds good.” He pushed me off and to my knees and something clicked in my head.

“Of course, Nevada,” I grinned, fiddling with his belt buckle and jeans while he began talking business with Lou again. When I pulled his cock from his pants it was fully hard but when I looked up Nevada was engrossed in the conversation, brows furrowed in anger. I sucked him into my mouth and Nevada barely blinked. I could feel him throbbing in my mouth, so I knew he wasn’t just having me suck his cock to suck his cock.

He got off on it.

Nevada must have had an exhibitionism kink on top of all of his other shit. I moaned at the thought of it, of more public fucks in the future. I mentally slapped myself, remembering the pit of fear in my stomach when I realized that all of the times that I had sex with Nevada there was no condom.

He must have sensed my apprehension because a strong hand fell to the back of my head as they discussed prices and selling spots, forcing me to stay down. Only when Lou demanded a street between territories on Valentine’s day and New Year’s Day did Nevada pull me off of his cock. I looked up at him and grinned, heaving in breath.

“What do you think, Pichoncito?” Nevada cooed, “You think the Spades should get our space then?”

_Our space._

“What are they givin’ us, Nev?”

“Nada.”

“We get New Years, Christmas, and Saint Patrick’s day. They the top sellin’ days. Those fucks can have Valentine’s day and Sweetest’s Day.” Nevada let his eyes roam over my face and the let go of my head, gesturing to his waiting, leaking cock. Lou cursed because he knew that he wasn’t going to win and, as Nevada began bucking into my mouth as he smirked. They shook on the deal and before Lou could turn away Nevada came, hissing and keeping eye contact with the younger drug lord.

I pulled off without swallowing, throwing myself to my feet. Lou was gazing at me with mute horror and I spit out the mouthful of Nevada’s come at him, the wet splotch on his chest signalling a direct hit.

Nevada cackled from the couch as I cocked an eyebrow at Lou, who turned, red faced, and stomped out of the club.

* * *

A hand wrapped around my bicep, slamming my body against the brick of the alley, drawing a growl from my chest. I struggled and stumbled back, reaching to my waistband for the knife but then I locked eyes with Levi.

“Yo,” I gasped, “What the fuck?”

“That’s what I should be askin’ you,” He growled, “I saw that shit earlier in the club.” Levi jerked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the bar. His hand fisted in my shirt and brought me closer, “You tryna get every cop in the city on you? Suckin’ off Trujillo in the bar like a common whore?”

I shoved him, Levi’s back slamming against the wall with a hollow thud of the air rushing out of his lungs, “Fuckin’ call me a whore, my man, do it. I’ll bust your fuckin’ teeth on the curb, Levi.” Our chests puffed out as we stared each other down, “What I’m doin’ ain’t none of your business, Levi. I moved out, you moved out. You’n Logan ain’t gotta worry ‘bout me and the fuck I’m doin’ anymore.”

“Just because Trujillo turnin’ you from _Jonah_ to _Peynado_ don’t mean we ain’t got’ worry about you.” His eyes narrowed, the bun on top of his head frayed and messy, showing me that he had been drinking before confronting me. “You our friend, still, Jonah, even though you turned into a real shithead.”

“Aye, you ain’t shit either,” Anger ran through me, igniting every alcoholic drink I had before stumbling out for a smoke, “Think you’re all high and mighty because you got a fuckin’ badge now? Think you the shit?”

His fist collided with my jaw and I cursed, grabbing it and twisting it until it popped, landing my own blow to his nose. It cracked and immediately began gushing blood as I used my leverage on his wrist to twist his body. One more swift punch to his lower back sent Levi to the ground. I stood over him, knuckles aching. “Stay fuckin’ down, Levi. I ain’t takin’ your shit no more. You aren’t my dad and you sure as hell ain’t my friend if you don’t understand that this is what makes me happy. I _like_ workin’ with Nevada, I _like_ fuckin’ Nevada, I _like_ what I’m doin’ and I keep going and going and going ‘til I get my surgery and even then I might keep fuckin’ goin’. I moved up the ranks, you fucker. I got _power_.” With one last kick to Levi’s back I threw open the door to the bar and slipped away inside, still pissed off.

I almost felt bad, almost, but then Nevada saw me, fire in my eyes, and he grinned. His hand barely missed falling on my shoulder as I shirked past him, heading for the entrance of the club to head home. I was boiling over and ready to fuck someone up, but I knew if I let Nevada get close to me, or touch me, I’d angry fuck him and that would be the end of that. I wouldn’t keep my anger and I would progress into sadness and regret, curling up on the bathroom floor. I couldn’t let that happen so I walked my ass home, cigarette in my mouth, smoking. There was nothing I could do, especially when Nevada would come home pissed off and horny, unless he got his rocks off at the club.

The house was dark when I got back and I stripped off my shirt and button up, leaving them on the couch as I ventured upstairs, heading for my room and my bed. I didn’t care if I pissed Nevada off, didn’t care if Levi burst in with a bunch of guns and shit, I just wanted to sleep. My mind was a mess, it had been a mess, but everything I had been ignoring was crashing down on me.

I was becoming the person I never wanted to be when this started; I was genuinely enjoying the Bonnie and Clyde bullshit Nevada and I had going. I was enjoying torturing Nevada’s enemies, enjoying (and getting better at) leaving them messages. I was truly enjoying my work under Nevada- and that scared me. I started the whole shitstorm just because I couldn’t wait to get surgery legally- I had already fucked my way to top surgery. I guess I was going to slice and dice my way to a hysterectomy.

And for some reason, lying twisted in the duvet nearly naked in a too cold, too dark room, I was okay with that. I was okay with the life I was crafting out of late night fucks, sucking off Trujillo in a club and spitting his load at a different gang leader. I was okay with the fact that Nevada didn’t wear a condom when he fucked me because I wasn’t itching or anything (yet) and I was surprisingly okay with the fact that I had just beat the shit out of one of my best friends in an alley.

I reached over and pulled left-over pain pills that Raquel had given me, downing three so maybe I could sleep. It was too cold in my room and my bed was uncomfortable- how many days had I been waking up in Nevada’s bed?

Too many, probably. Way too many.

And it wasn’t that I loved him, or that I was romantically interested in him. I just like the way he looked and held himself. I like the way he took care of me in bed.

After fifteen minutes of tossing and turning, waiting on the sleeping pill to kick in, the front door slammed open and I leapt from bed, heart pounding. I knew it was probably just Nevada but I was startled- and when I heard a voice that was high and feminine I snatched my gun off of my desk and threw myself through the bedroom door, making my way as silently as I could down the stairs.

My gun trained on someone’s chest as my eyes flickered to their head, dropping the gun to point at the floor as I gaped at Logan, “You’re fuckin’ me right? How did you figure out where I lived?” She scoffed at me and held her hand out for the gun. “No, you ain’t gettin’ my gun. I’ll put it away but you ain’t gettin’ it.”

“I’m a private investigator, dumbass. That’s how. You think I let Levi go to the club to find you alone? You should really be more aware of who’s behind you when you’re going home.” I tucked the gun in my waistband. I would punch, kick, and shoot Levi all I could (probably) but I wouldn’t lay a finger on Logan. She was too far removed from all of my shit.

“What do you want?”

“I want to know why you fucked up Lev at the club,” Her eyes flared with rage, “I want to know how you went from getting a surgery to _fucking_ Trujillo and killing people.” My chest tightened and I did something that was less me and more Nevada; I stomped toward her and towered over her until she cowered back against a table pressed against the wall.

“I ain’t killed anyone,” I snarled, voice not my own, “Get your fuckin’ facts straight, Logan. I’m done playin’.”

“This isn’t you,” She protested weakly, trying to push her chin out, “This isn’t you, Jonah.” I smirked at her, nearly feeling her fear radiating off of her body. She tried to cover it up, like Levi did, but she wasn’t as good as he was, “I know who you are.”

“I’m not Jonah anymore. Christ, Logan. I like this. I actually like this and I’m fuckin’ good at this. Do you understand? I ain’t been good at shit since high school but I’m good at this. I’m good at shit I ain’t even gonna tell you. So fuck you, and fuck Logan, and fuck everyone who told me that illegal shit ain’t good because you know what? I’m happier here than I was tryin’ to be you and tryin’ to be Levi. So get the fuck out of my house, now.”

I stumbled back as Logan shoved me, actual anger taking over. Steadying myself I grabbed the gun as she began shouting.

“How are you happy? All you do is kill and run and fuck and you’re only ever angry! How the fuck could this make you happy? Huh?” Tears brimmed in her eyes and I felt bad; the guilt was bubbling in my stomach like a virus. I ignored it and trained my gun on Logan again, my voice low, cold, and dark.

“Get out. Now. I’ll give you three seconds.”

Logan, a woman that had looked out for me since I had met her in high school, was gone before I could blink. In that moment I realized that I had made my bed when I sought out Nevada and then, at that moment, I was getting ready to lie in it.

* * *

Nevada knew that such a public display of… _Affection_?

No, wrong.

What he made Jonah do wasn’t affection. It was nothing but sexual. Anyways, Nevada knew that such a public display of blatant homosexual sexuality; interaction would send shock waves through the Heights. Over the course of the night he received many panicked calls- _Nevada! Lou, he’s saying, you know, that you had your cock stomach deep in Jonah!_ \- and he always confirmed his worker’s words, telling them not to worry about it. Lou would get what he deserved, in due time.

But Nevada could only think of Jonah. Jonah who shirked off his hand as the boy rushed past him out of the club, Jonah who looked good covered in blood (was his nose bleeding?) and Jonah who was good at what he did, heartless, like Nevada when the elder man was in his twenties.

Jonah, who would become Nevada one day.

Nevada didn’t know if he was proud and excited for that day or remorseful that he aided in Jonah’s downfall. He was handcrafting the boy’s trip to hell, and Nevada liked it. He liked the way Jonah slashed through flesh without blinking, the way he pressed the barrel of a gun harshly to a temple before he pulled the trigger. Nevada liked how much smaller than he the boy was, the way the boy followed his orders angrily, but blindly.

Nevada Ramirez found himself at the bar, three hours after Jonah left, still thinking about the blond and tipping back shots. He was ignoring the women who were flocking to him, the men and curious civilians made brazen by Lou’s correct accusations asking Nevada if he really made Peynado suck him off. He made them go away with a flap of his hand just like the women, thoughts on nothing but Jonah.

Why was Jonah in his head so much? Why did he find himself wrapped around Jonah’s body more often than not at night? Why did he get so angry when he thought of Jonah with anyone else?

Nevada knew the answer, he just wanted to drink until he forgot it. He wanted to blind himself with alcohol, go home, fuck Jonah until neither of them could breathe, and then collapse and sleep for ten hours. That’s what Nevada wanted, but not what Nevada got. When he stumbled home, drunk but still sharp witted, Jonah was sitting on the floor in the hallway just beyond the door, clutching a gun with tear stains on his face.

And, without a second thought, Nevada dropped to his knees and pulled Jonah into his arms, “Pichoncito, what’s wrong?” His voice was uncharacteristically small and soft, “Amor, tell me.” Jonah shook his head slowly and then he began to slowly sob, hiccups coming from deep in his chest. Had it been anyone else Nevada would have scoffed and left the room, but he only held Jonah closer and kissed his head. “Talk to me,” He begged, “Por favor, talk to me.”


	17. 17.

When Jonah didn’t answer and then stopped moving, Nevada began to panic. 

He shook the boy and called his name, cursing when Jonah’s red, tear stained face lulled backward into the crook of his elbow. Nevada shook him again and then pulled the gun from the boy’s hand. “Fuck, Pichoncito,” He sighed, “You’re fucked up, mi chico.”

He heaved himself up and then pulled Jonah into his arms, not bothering to climb the steps to either of their rooms instead opting for a guest room he used to bone girls when he didn’t want them in his bed and laid Jonah onto the silk sheets. Nevada looked down upon him, body bruised and limp with sleep like Nevada had never felt before. He shook his head before turning to make sure his house was locked down and let Leo in from out back.

He whistled out the back door and heard the jingle of the dog’s collar, “Aye, find Jonah. Guard.” For a minute Nevada scratched between Leo’s ears and then his guard dog skittered through the house. Nevada locked the back door and swept up Jonah’s gun on his way past, opting for sticking his head out through the front door before locking it up. He pulled out his phone and instructed one of his men to stand guard outside of the house- something was wrong and he wouldn’t know until Jonah woke up. Nevada found himself peeling clothing off of his weary body next to the bed, shirt and jacket in a pile next to the bed while he pulled his shoes off. Jonah rustled and mumbled something, but nothing Nevada could make out.

When Nevada pulled his pants down, reaching for Jonah’s clothing, the boy spoke clearer, “Nev…” He mumbled, “I’m sorry.” And Nevada froze, hand nearly to Jonah’s shirt hemline. What did the boy have to be sorry for? Nevada groaned and ran a hand down his face before undressing Jonah to the younger boy’s boxers and climbing in bed with him. Even if the boy had fucked up tremendously Nevada wasn’t sure he could punish Jonah.

How many times had Jonah disrespected him? How many times had Jonah hit him, kissed someone in front of him, didn’t kill for Nevada- instead making Gabby or Jose do it? Any of those things had gotten workers killed in the past but Jonah wasn’t a worker, was he?

No, Jonah was much more than that.

Jonah wasn’t just a drone, he wasn’t a drug mule, he wasn’t a man to keep Nevada’s hands from getting dirty. Jonah was more. He was someone that Nevada wanted around but didn’t want to bring down. Why was the elder man so conflicted? He didn’t understand what he was feeling nor did he understand why he was so upset about Jonah being able to kill without blinking. But Nevada wasn’t a man to dwell on his confusion, instead opting for pulling blankets over his chilled body and wrapping Jonah in his arms to sleep. He was more comfortable than he had ever been in his life with Jonah in his arms and Nevada was asleep in minutes.

But that doesn’t mean he stayed asleep. Some hours later Jonah stirred and called Nevada’s name groggily again, followed with: “I took some sleeping pills earlier, I’m sorry.” Nevada sat up and pulled Jonah up by the back of the neck, fuming.

“You scared the shit outt’a me, Jonah. You can’t do that shit, aye?” And then he threw Jonah down onto the bed and pressed his face into his neck, “You can’t do that shit.”

“I’m sorry,” He slurred his words, “I didn’t, I wasn’t that upset when I was tryin’, tryin’ to get some sleep.” Nevada nodded and forgave the boy uncharacteristically swiftly, kissing his pulse point. “I… Sorry I left the club without you, Nev.”

“Why did you?” Nevada asked, “I just… Quería bailar con mi Pichoncito. Eres mío. Todo mío. Siempre mío, ¿de acuerdo? Te necesito.” Nevada spoke the words when he knew Jonah wouldn’t understand him. He didn’t care that he was telling Jonah he was property, but that didn’t matter. Nevada didn’t care, Nevada needed to say it, to get the strange feeling out of his chest and the uncertainty from his life.

“Levi showed up,” Jonah pushed Nevada off of him to sit up, leaning his face on his hands. Nevada sat back and watched, content to do so, but then Jonah reached out for him, “I fucked up, Nev. I really fucked up.” Jonah was misty eyed again, reaching for Nevada, and then fell into each other. “I fucked up when I painted the Spades shit and I fucked up when I told you I wanted a job and I fucked up when I fucked you and, God, my life is fucked.”

He could feel the pain in his gut, twisting around, “I didn’t know you regretted this,” He mumbled, but Jonah- in his sleeping pill disarray- didn’t hear him and continued speaking.

“And Levi, he saw me suck you off and it freaked him out. He knows, y’know, that I’m trans and?” Jonah cocked his head against Nevada’s shoulder as he used his weight to press Nevada down to lay against his body. Nevada wanted to leave, to have anger burn in his belly and smoke a cigar, but Jonah- su Pichoncito- was clinging to him, warm and slim and smooth but angular, and Nevada really should have been listening- “Didn’t know I swung all fuckin’ ways, so, iunno, it freaked him out? ‘Nd when I went to Geoff he said that he wanted to cuff me.” Nevada actually tensed and pressed his lips to Jonah’s temple, “I was afraid he would.”

“What did you do?”

“How did you know that I did somethin’?”

There were so many answers for that but Nevada didn’t say because he could pinpoint what was making Jonah shake or what was making him smile. Nevada didn’t say because he’d spent so long dreaming about Jonah or that they had spent so much time together or because he could remember what Jonah smelt like even surrounded by death. Nevada shrugged.

“Because you ain’t the type to let shit like that go.” Jonah laughed, slow and languidly, before he kissed Nevada’s chest slowly and open mouthed. It sent a shock wave of arousal straight to Nevada’s prick, but the older man pushed it away.

Why was he pushing it away?

“That’s true. But then, uh, Logan showed up here. It freaked me the fuck out, y’know? She, eugh, I can’t even fuckin’ think. I’m so tired, Nev. I’m so tired. I wanna sleep.” Nevada nodded and pressed his lips to Jonah’s temple, feeling different than he had in years. “Nev, I can’t. I wish I never met you. I wish I didn’t want this damn surgery so bad.”

“Fuck, get the fuck out then,” Nevada snapped and for the first time Jonah actually realized that something was wrong with Nevada and pulled back to pout up at him.

“No, I didn’t. I mean, I did, but. God. Nev I wish that I wasn’t so fucke dup about this. I like this. I like being here with you, I mean, but I’ve killed people. And, you know, I killed people and lost my two only friends and I don’t. I like it. It scares me that I like it. I can’t. This is. I don’t know.” Nevada pressed Jonah’s head down to his shoulder and pulled him tighter.

“Hush, Pichoncito,” He grumbled, “Sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.” Jonah nodded and nearly fell asleep right away, snoring lightly against Nevada’s flushed skin, his chest heaving with the though of the man on his chest and the feelings in his heart.

* * *

I felt like shit when I opened my eyes, splayed out on my stomach with a face pressed between my shoulder blades, a big, heavy hand on my lower back. I didn’t move because I knew, from the scent of the bed underneath me, that it was Nevada. I could feel his soft, slow breathing, and I could also feel the gross tear tracks dried on my face.

I didn’t mean to groan but Nevada’s legs twisted with mine and his body angled away from me made for cramps in my thighs and he immediately woke up and untwisted. Instead of leaving, like I thought he was going to, he pulled me close and seemed to try to go back to sleep. I was content to do that, embarressed by the way that sleeping pills affected me. Nevada’s breathing evened out but then he spoke, “If you want out, I’ll let you out. No tricks.”

“I don’t want out.”

“You told me last night that y’don’t like this anymore. Yeh’regret it.” I sighed and pushed myself closer to him, trying to quell his fears.

“I do regret it, Nev. Not as much as you think, though. I’m scared. I’m fuckin’ terrified, man.” My words spiraled away from me and Nevada didn’t move, he was barely breathing, “I shouldn’t enjoy fuckin’ someone up, you know? I shouldn’t enjoy cuttin’ em and I should feel somethin’ when I kill ‘em. I shouldn’t be so cold. I didn’t, y’know, didn’t use to be like this. I use to be fuckin’ sane.” Nevada pulled my closer and pressed a kiss to my temple and I blinked, wondering if I had imagined the tender touch.

“You’re still sane,” He mumbled, “Lo prometo. You’ve just got, ah, refined tastes, ya sabes. That’s what you tell la policia. Refined tastes. You ain’t in love with killin’, are yah? Maybe you like roughin’ someone up, but like, boxers do that shit to, y’know? Boxers do the same shit.” I snuffed out a laugh through my nose, trying to seek the tenderness Nevada had never given me by running a finger over his skin, tracing his ribs and pressing a kiss to his collar bone. Nevada sighed and pressed a kiss to my temple, holding it and curling a hand around my hand. “If you want out, I’ll let’yah out.”

“I don’t want out,” I closed my eyes and sighed, “I don’t want out. I want…”

“I know,” Nevada’s voice was rough and low, “I know what you’re gonna say, Jonah.” A thrill shot through my body when Nevada said my name and not chico or Pichoncito. “I know.” I nodded and closed my eyes, pressing my palm flat to his warm skin. “Tonight,” He sighed, “Gonna take you out, ‘kay? Gonna take you out tonight ‘nd it’s gonna be fancy. I want you all dressed up for me, ‘kay, Pichoncito? I wanna take care ‘ah you. I’m gonna take care ‘ah you.”

“Nev…” I sighed, “You ain’t gotta take care of me. Promise I won’t cry or shit ‘gain.” Nevada sat up abruptly, leaving me laying down and looking down on me. His eyes were filled with fire and he held me down with a heavy hand in the center of my chest.

“Fuck, Jonah, let me fuckin’ take care of you, yeah? Don’t be such a dick and let me take care of you.” It dawned on me, then, that Nevada cared about me more than he let on and taking care of me was telling me that he liked me more than a quick fuck. Slowly I nodded, gazing up in awe.

“Okay, yeah. I’ll- do you want me to dress up? Anything special you want me to wear?” Nevada smirked and nodded, removing his hand and dragging a finger down my chest, stopping to flick the waistband of my boxers against my hip bones.

“I bought you somethin’, but I’ll give that to you at dinner. You ‘member the outfit you wore when you first went to fuck with Doug? That blue number? I like that. Wear that, ‘kay?” I smiled, more like grinned, and then nodded, reaching up to push some of Nevada’s hair out of his eyes and he smiled, warm and docile, like that time in the kitchen when he belly laughed. I liked it, just like I liked him when he was cold and angry.

* * *

Nevada left an address on my bed when I was in the shower and laid out my clothing for me with a picture of me and him that he must have taken at some point in the night prior. I smiled at it and then slipped it in my wallet as I dressed slowly. I wondered what he had for me, but the only way to figure it out would be to meet Nevada at the address. I threw a leg over my motorcycle and revved the engine until I was fast on my way to meeting Nevada.

I was excited to say the least because as far as I knew Nevada didn’t take people out. He took girls to dive bars and shitty clubs he owned to show them off or to prove that women flocked to him whilst making a deal. But as far as I knew that night was special and Nevada was taking me out to dinner- like a real date.

As I pulled up I spotted Nevada leaning against the restaurant, smoking, and he smiled when I put the kickstand up and swung off. Approaching I watched him as he tossed the cigarette over his back and when he got close enough he pulled me close by the neck and kissed me, deeply. I sighed and Nevada pulled at the hemline of my shirt, smirking. “I’m glad you took my advice.”

“Would I ever disagree with the great Trujillo?” He hummed against me, dragging me along to the entrance where we were immediately escorted to a private room that was well lit and expansive, only one table set for two people. I looked around the room and peeled myself away from Nevada to throw myself in the seat. “Let’s eat, since you kept me in bed.” Nevada chuckled and the waitress flinched as she brought the first course. “Orderin’ for me.”

“Do you have a problem with that?” Nevada smirked as he picked up his fork, “Eat, Jonah, I’ll give you your gifts.” I nodded, grinning.


	18. 18.

Halfway through the meal Nevada put down his utensils and I cocked an eyebrow, “Somethin’ wrong?”

“I lied,” Nevada smiled at me in a predatory way, “You aren’t getting your gift today. En una semana, tal vez. Si eres un buen chico. But you have to be a good boy.” I stopped eating, too, leaning toward him. I disapproved but what was I going to do? Argue with Nevada? I had done that before and, while it lead to being choked out and fucked down into the mattress, I wasn’t ready for that. I was ready for a new side of Nevada, a switch flipped somewhere in him.

“‘Kay,” I trailed off, “You gonna tell me what the gift is?” Nevada smirked and clicked around on his phone for a second before a man dressed in a basketball shirt and shorts jogged through the back entrance, a duffle bag heavy in his hands. He tossed it on the table, causing it to shake, and Nevada plucked a heavy wad out of the bag and then pressed into the man’s hands.

“Thank you. Go home, a sus chicos.” The nameless man nodded and retreated, leaving me confused whilst Nevada was preening like the fucking peacock he was. He leered at me before pushing the bag to me. “Open it, Pichoncito, por favor.” I pulled it into my lap and opened it, losing my breath at the stacks of cash in the black duffel, immediately looking up to Nevada.

“What the fuck?” I zipped it back up, “What? Nev?”

“I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said I wanted’t take care of you. After you went to meet with Geoff I got on your laptop.” I bristled with the privacy violation, but he kept talking, “Saw how much this shit cost’n did the math on how many more people you’d have to kill. It fucks with you, Pichoncito. No me gusta eso. Se obtiene de mal humor y maliciosa. I want to you be happy.” I was floored, somehow managing to only look down at the money. “You gotta do one thing for me, aye? One thing’n you’ll get the rest’a your gift.” I quirked an eyebrow because, of course, he was still Nevada Ramirez, still Trujillo, and I should have know there was a catch.

But I didn’t give a shit. “‘Course, Nev. Anything.” Silently, I added for you in my head. Nevada became serious then, the same man who hung me from a meat hook and beat the shit out of me and then gave me a job.

“I’m goin’ back to La República Dominicana to visit mi jefe, El marido de Raquel, to tell him the shit we got goin’ on. Raquel is goin’ with me but her son isn’t.”

My eyebrows shot up in surprise, “She has a son?”

“Sí, pero only one. A young boy, Emmanuel. One day he’s gonna take over this shit, y’know, if I end up in cuffs or dead or somethin’, Emmanuel gonna take over. But we can’t leave him here with this shitty nanny Raquel got him.” I realized where the conversation was going as soon as Nevada mentioned that Emmanuel was Raquel’s only son- he wanted me to nanny the boy while they were in the Dominican Republic. I didn’t know how I felt about that but Nevada left his sentence hang in the air, as if he knew that I knew, to let me deliberate.

“The boy,” I finally said, slowly, “How old is he?” Nevada’s eyes brightened with glee and he let a smirk- a true Trujillo smirk- grace his face, “If he’s like, fuckin’ three or some shit I ain’t doin’ it.”

“Don’t worry, Pichoncito. Emmanuel is nearing seven years old.” I relaxed, clutching the duffel bag, “Do you want to visit him?”  
  
“Nev, it’s fuckin’ nine at night. Shouldn’t he be in bed?”

“Emmanuel has cut and carried for me, Jonah, you think he fuckin’ goes to bed at nine? He ain’t got shit for rules.”

“So he ain’t gonna fuckin’ listen? I ain’t lettin’ him be a brat, Nev.” I imagined Nevada was going to be angry at me for smarting off, but instead he grinned, standing. He shuffled on his leather jacket and turned to leave, “Come on, we really gonna invade Raquel’s house?”

“I pay for it, Pichoncito,” He laughed, “I can go whenever the fuck I want.”

* * *

There was something strange about going to meet Emmanuel. It had the feeling of meeting parents when I was a teenager, but not. I was meeting a kid who could probably fucking kill me with his eyes closed. He was the nephew of Trujillo, of course, and he sure looked like it. Nevada barged straight into the apartment, calling boisterously for his sister in Spanish, dragging me behind him with a heavy hand on my shoulder.

“Vada?” She called from somewhere within, “Vada what do you want?” She exited the kitchen with a dishtowel over her hands. She looked worried until she saw me standing behind him, “He said yes?”

“Yeah,” Nevada grinned, “Took some convincin’, but he’ll do it. Let him meet the boy.” Raquel grinned at me and called for Emmanuel, a long string of Spanish that I wouldn’t ever understand. I heard the patter of feet and then a child’s voice calling out.

“Comin’, Mami!” He skipped into the room and connected eyes with me before flickering his gaze to Nevada, “Tío!” He made a beeline for Nevada, jumping into his arms. Nevada pulled him close and kissed the boy’s cheek, both rapidly firing off in their Native tongue before I heard my name tossed in, Nevada and Emmanuel turning to look at me before Nevada spoke in English.

“He’s Tío’s friend, Jonah. He’s stayin’ with you while me ‘n your Mami go to see Papi.” His eyes matched Nevada’s- vibrant green- and his hair was curled to the extreme and in a mess on top of his head. He looked sweet. but I could see the underlying hardness there. It must have been a Ramirez thing.

“Hey,” I said awkwardly, hands pushed deep into my pockets, “I’m Jonah. Nevada’s told me a lot about you.” Emmanuel curled toward Nevada but Raquel whipped him lightly with the dishtowel.

“Jonah works with Tío, Emmanuel, don’t be so shy. I’ve taught you better than that.” He nodded at his mother and held a tiny hand out.

“I bet Tío taught you better, too, yeah? Your Tío can be mean.” Emmanuel’s face lit up and he grinned, one tooth missing and his entire face lighting up, “Aye, I ain’t so bad!”

“Tío!” He whined, “Let me down! I wanna show Jonah my room!” I looked to Nevada and he shrugged before chastising Emmanuel for whining but then the boy was gripping my hand and dragging me through the house to his room. I was shocked and- what was I thinking? That Emmanuel would be some stone cold killing machine? Well, kinda. I did. Nevada was exactly that: stone cold and a serial killer without actually killing.

He was like a more attractive Charles Manson- except less crazy.

I expected Emmanuel to be raised the same way as Nevada but I had a feeling that Nevada was raised in an iron house, an angry house, and it was clear to me that Emmanuel was nothing but loved. Nevada softened around him and Raquel, well, she had taken care of me and I knew she was softer than Nevada.

But, still, the warm outside of Emmanuel and the way he took a shine to me, showing me all of his toys, surprised me. He chattered on, sometimes in English and sometimes in Spanish, but I sat on the ground and held each toy as he toddled and picked it up and brought it back to me, explaining their names and where got them. (The most common place, of course, was Tío Nevada.) I didn’t notice Nevada standing in the doorway until it was too late and Emmanuel crawled into my lap and handed me a TMNT toy and asked me to place with a grin on his face.

“Of course!” I exclaimed, “It would be an honor to play with you, Emmanuel.” I smiled, “Does Tío ever play with you?”

“Yeah,” His hair bounced as he nodded, “Tío plays all the time. Sometimes even his other guys play, too. One time Jose played with me, ‘n Gabby too.” I snickered, thinking about Jose on the ground playing with Emmanuel, “But Tío trains me, too.” I hummed and nodded.

“Trains you to do his job?”

“Yeah!” Emmanuel’s eyes were wide as he gazed at me, “It’s fun. I want to be just like Tío when I grow up. I wish I could go see mi Papi, though.” My heart ached in my chest and that’s when I looked back and saw Nevada, looking down on us with a small frown on his face.

“Aye, Pichoncito, it’s time to go home.” Emmanuel looked back at Nevada and grinned, “Say goodbye to Emmanuel. You’ll be seein’ him, yeah?”

“‘Course,” I said, standing and ruffling the boy’s hair, “See you, Emmanuel.” He waved goodbye and I passed by Nevada without a word and Raquel hugged me on my way out. Nevada pushed me out of her door and then, when we were down the hall, he slammed me against the wall and covered me with his body, “Christ,” I complained as he mouthed against my neck, “Why the fuck are y’so horny, Nevada?” He chuckled against my skin and then stopped moving, pressing against me. “You’re old,” I joked, “You shouldn’t have this much stamina.”

He growled and slammed a fist against the wall, leaving a sizeable hole, “You want me to show you old, aye? You want me to show you how old I am the whole way home, coz I can. We ain’t playin’ this game, aye?” I laughed, my chest bumping against his as I did so, my laugh echoing through the apartment building. “Don’t say shit like that, ‘specially not ‘front all my boys, okay?”

“Fine, Nevada.” I snarked, “I won’t say shit ‘front your boys. I won’t say anythin’ less you want me to say somethin’.” He nipped my lower lip and leaned back to let me pass by, swatting my ass on my way past. I twisted his arm and then opened the door to the stairs. “You can show me you’re not’n old man by racing me down the steps’n if you’re not outta breath by the time we get to the end and you beat me then I’ll suck you off and expect nothin’ in return.” His eyes lit up and he grinned, stepping through the door. “But, if you can’t do both of those things then you gotta tell me what gift I’ll get for bein’ Emmanuel’s nanny.”

“We can use it if you want,” Nevada suggested. I set myself up to go and Nevada did, too, before we grinned and I called _go!_ and then I was focused on the steps and getting down them. Nevada took over when we reached the fifth floor but I took a shortcut and leapt over the railing, landing harshly on the fourth floor landing before Nevada howled behind me, struggling to catch up with me. I reached the third floor landing as he thundered down the steps leading to the fourth. I focused on sprinting down the stairs until I felt a hand clasp onto my shoulder and jerk me back on the second floor landing, causing me to stumble. I cursed and decided to throw myself willy-nilly over the ledge, landing hard on my knees as I cried out and frantically made my way toward the first floor, where I could see the door. Even though I was limping, I made it there first and leaned against it as Nevada puffed down the last flight of stairs. His face was red but he looked triumphant because, well, giving me my gift must have still been a benefit to him in some way.

“I win, old man!” I shouted gleefully, “Now you can’t be pissed that I call you that, Nev!” He wrapped me up in his arms and then cupped my ass, “I’ll still suck you off, though, but you gotta promise me I’ll know what’yeh got me.” He kissed me, taking careful consideration to nip at my lips in a way that made the dominance roll off of him, something that made me incredibly happy I had won.

“Let’s go home, Pichoncito, I have your gift at home.” I cupped him, hard, over his jeans before pushing through the door and escaping through the lobby of the apartment.

* * *

When we got home someone called for Nevada and Leo so they left, leaving me to an empty house and nothing to do. I chose one of Nevada’s t-shirt and his boxers to lounge around in because they were too big for me and better for writing. I had my journal, something I had started keeping when I started killing, in my lap when Nevada came home, looking angry and agitated so I thought it best to keep my distance and continue writing in the shorthand that only I really knew.

Nevada let his tired body collapse next to me on the sofa. “Go change,” He said gruffly, “I need you. We got a problem.”


	19. 19.

His body hurt, ached all over, and he couldn’t see anything.

He could hear, but he couldn’t see anything. The fabric over his eyes and over his mouth was thick and heavy, smelling like sweat and alcohol.

The combination smelt like fear, something he hadn’t smelt in a long time. He sure as shit hadn’t been on the receiving end of the concoction, instead being the one who intimidated that smell out of people. He was the one who poured water over them to wake them up, he was the one to twist their hair and control their head, rip their blindfolds off and snarl maliciously into their face.

But now he was in that position. He was blinking up at a familiar tuft of white hair and bright eyes, a thick grin on Jonah’s face. Inwardly he cursed because he knew what Jonah could do, he had heard it on the streets, heard it where he escaped to. But Nevada had found him and, by extension, so had Jonah. Jonah threw him back, strong hands jerking him to kneel and holding him up for the psychopath in front of him.

“Damn,” Jonah cooed, voice deep, “Been a hot minute since I seen you, Dougy. Where yah been? You skipped town after you saw my message, aye?” He tensed as Jonah pulled out a knife from his waistband and another body emerged from the darkness. It was Nevada Ramirez himself, Trujillo in the flesh. He wasn’t grinning, not smiling, in fact his face was cold with rage. He didn’t know which was scarier, the glee on Jonah’s face or the uncaring, emotionless face of Nevada. Jonah looked back at Nevada and halted his movements. “Hey, wasn’t expectin’ you ‘till I was done with him.” Fear shot straight through Doug’s stomach at the thought of Ramirez being the one to finish him off.

“I wanted to talk to him,” Nevada fished a cigarette from Jonah’s back pocket, lighting it, before he took a long draw from it. Doug watched him warily and tried not to react when Nevada grasped the back of Jonah’s head and began to shotgun the smoke, both moaning under their breath. When Nevada was done he leaned forward and grasped the back of Doug’s hair, pressing the cigarette to his jugular. He screamed, writhing in the hands of the men behind him, before Jonah wrapped slender, pale fingers around Nevada’s wrist and pulled it away.

“Sounds like talkin’, yeah? Nev, you can’t take all the fun. You ain’t payin’ me to stand around and let you get your hands dirty.” They both smirked at each other, Doug’s eyes flickering between them. He wasn’t sure what was happening, mostly because he had been in fuckin’ Canada since he woke up in his apartment.

“Fine,” Nevada bristled and Doug’s eyes widened more, “Have yh’go with ‘im. I’ll step out to talk with Gabby.” They shared a hearty kiss before Nevada retreated, black leather shining in the singular light hanging from the ceiling. Doug’s eyes slid to Jonah, leering over him with knife in hand. Neither man spoke until Jonah raised to press the tip of his knife into the space between Doug’s clavicles.

“Long time no see,” Jonah teased, “I didn’t leave you that message to scare you away, you know? You gotta kid, yeah? I wasn’t tryin’ to take you away from her.” Doug stiffened.

“How do you know my kid is a girl?” He asked, “I don’t ‘member tellin’ you that.”

“At least he remembered the English, amirite, Jose?” Jonah grinned at the man to Doug’s left, “And to answer you, you think I ain’t gonna look into what I can use against you? You think Nevada didn’t tell me?” Doug’s blood ran cold, “Fuck, you literally one of the dumbest-” Jonah sucked in a deep breath of air before plunging his knife deep into Doug’s thigh, leaning down to do so. Doug screamed out, thrashing, and then Jonah ordered the men holding him to drop his limp body.

He collapsed, cheek pressed against the cold, concrete floor. The pain radiated from his thigh and intensified when Jonah pressed a sneaker to the back of his thigh, pressing the wounds to the floor. “I dunno if I should let Nev talk to you and let the infections kill you or let Nev talk to you and then kill you. What do you think Jose?”

“I think he abandoned Jefe y joined the Spades crew in Canada. Let him die slowly.” Jonah smirked and then walked in front of Doug’s face, tossing down the knife in his line of vision. It made his heart pump and his vision blur. His eyes watered when Jonah pulled his hair back until his throat was constricted so much he was struggling to breathe.

“I think Jose is right, aye? Lemme go get Trujillo ‘nd see what he wants to do with you.” Doug was left on the ground to think about what was coming and for his vision to waver like he was going to pass out.


	20. 20.

Nevada smiled down at Doug, pressing the underside of his boot to the slashes on his thigh.

Doug screamed and tipped his head back, gasping, but Nevada just lit another cigarette from Jonah’s pocket and leaned against the younger boy. He knew what they looked like, splayed over each other while leering down at Doug, like two predators surveying their prey before a kill. Nevada knew they looked like a killing couple, like a bastardized Bonnie and Clyde, and he liked it.

He liked the confusion on the man’s face as he looked over the duo and the way he tried to hold back his screams. It had been awhile since Nevada had gotten his hands dirty, smoke cigarettes, and taunted his victim. Years, probably. It had always either been Gabby or Jose, his right hand men.

But Jonah inspired something in him, something that made his younger side flourish. Jonah was inspiring Nevada’s youth, inspiring his dark side once more. He hadn’t been hands on since he took over for his brother in law when the elder man went back to the Dominican Republic. He looked down at Doug who was sniveling, probably thinking about his daughter. Nevada scoffed.

“You gonna talk now?” He snarled, “I think it’s time to talk.” Doug cried out as Nevada’s boot pressed down into his wound again. Jonah leaned against Nevada, kissing up his neck, as they surveyed Doug’s tense reaction. “I wanna know what the Spades’re plannin’ coz I know they are. Sure they’re pissed ‘bout what Pichoncito pulled at the club.”

Doug smirked and spit out blood, “Yeah, we heard ‘bout the lil’ faggot takin’ your dick at the club ‘nd shootin’ your load at our boy Lou.” Jonah’s hands tightened on Nevada’s leather jacket but the elder man felt his stomach twist with anger, the flames licked up his whole body. He stepped away from Jonah and slammed down on Doug’s thigh, foot shooting up to slam Doug in the chin with the toe of his heavy boots. The sound of Doug’s teeth coming together echoed through the room and he howled as blood poured from his mouth. Nevada didn’t take a moment to inspect but he was sure that Doug had bitten through his tongue. Apathetically Nevada nudged his chin as he sobbed on the ground but Jonah kneeled next to him, prying open his mouth.

“Christ, Nevada, I think he bit his tongue off.” Jonah whipped out his knife and angled it in Doug’s mouth so he could push his fingers past the man’s teeth without worrying if he was going to bite down, “Don’t bite down ‘less you want a blade through the roof of your mouth.” Jonah fished around and made a face of disgust and then he recoiled quickly, dragging a stringy mess of blood and saliva with his long fingers. The tongue landed next to Jose’s foot and Doug screamed as Jonah pulled back, knife clattering to the floor, reaching for something to wipe the blood and saliva on. He looked toward Nevada with a face of pure horror. “How is he supposed to talk now!?”

Nevada, caught off guard by Jonah in the boy’s entirety, brayed out a laugh that turned into a red-face, gut busting guffaw that echoed off the walls. He bent at the waist and laughed until tears came to his eyes, “Oh, shit, Jonah,” He managed to gasp, “Always worried about the right things, aye?”

* * *

It didn’t take much to get the shit to preserve a tongue, especially when you’re second hand to Nevada Ramirez. I found that out when I got the shit to preserve a tongue from a local hospital, displaying the tongue on my bedside table at home so I could remember the first time we worked together, really together.

It didn’t matter that I was a little grossed out when I woke up or that Nevada refused to have sex in my room- it really didn’t matter because the tongue was at my house and I wasn’t. Nevada and Raquel had left the day after Doug’s tongue had come out and I was promptly stationed at Raquel’s apartment with her son, whom had taken a liking to me.

They were due back in three days when I got the call, the one that sent me pacing through Raquel’s kitchen with a tense hand in my hair, wondering how I was gonna tell the kid that was already missing him Mami and his Tío and rebelling against me. He refused to sleep, refused to eat, and closed himself off to me.

“Fine, Gabby. Thanks for tellin’ me.” I leant against the counter, hand in my hair, as I heard him laugh on the other end.

“Don’t worry, chico. Jefe ain’t let any of us babysit Emmanuel ‘less he’s in the room with us. You’re special.” I snorted, shaking my head, “Even when he been with someone, you know? Like seriously, before he became Trujillo Fucksalot, he had this broad ‘nd she wasn’t even ‘llowed to watch his nephew. You’re special.” I was warmed but caught up on something that Gabby had said.

“Trujillo Fucksalot?” I snickered, “That what y’all call him behind his back?”

“Sometimes,” Gabby admitted, “Depends it’s on our mood y’know?” I watched as Emmanuel slid into the kitchen, looking up at me with hopeful, green eyes. “Anyway, better get back to watchin’ the kid. Me’n Jose’ll come by in the mornin’ or the night or somethin’. We’ll be over.” I hung up and turned toward Emmanuel, trying to smile at him.

“Sorry, kid,” I sighed and then his eyes welled with tears, looking toward his lap. I put a gently hand on his shoulder, “Yo’ Mami and Tío gotta stay in the DR for a’coupla more days. I’m sorry.” Emmanuel’s hand covered mine as he leaned into it, snuffling, “This happen when they go often?” He shrugged and I sighed, trying to figure out what lonely six year olds liked to do. “Hey, ‘Mmanuel, let’s go watch a movie or some shit, aye? Sound good?” For the first time in a week he smiled at me and nodded, bouncing off to pick one. I sighed, nodding, wondering how anyone ever had children and raised the little beasts successfully. Emmanuel ended up picking out The Little Mermaid, something I was surprised that Nevada would allow him to watch a traditional “female” movie. Then again, I was not the traditional male figure and Nevada… Did he like me? Did he love me?

I shook the thought from my head, settling down in the crevice of the couch, Emmanuel sitting rigid next to me, trying to figure out if he could lean against me or not. I pulled him over and he grinned at me before the movie started and my mind couldn’t focus on the movie or on Emmanuel because I was stuck on thoughts of how Nevada felt about me.

Was he just keeping me around to fuck and use me and intimidate? Nothing was more intimidating than a man who’s not afraid to fuck who he fucks and kiss who he kisses. Nevada was peacocking me, showing me off, using me to prove that he was comfortable enough in himself to keep a man around, and in his house. It was halfway through the movie when Emmanuel wiggled away from me to speak to me, big eyes boring into my soul.

“Can I ask you somethin’, Jonah?” Compared to the singing on the television he was speaking softly, so I paused the movie, “You ain’t gonna be mad or anythin’ right?”

“Won’t be mad,” I mumbled, thrilled that it seemed like Emmanuel was going to open up to me, or attempt to talk to me more so than the superficial conversations most six year olds held, “I swear. Iunno how to say that in Spanish, but if I could I’d say it fo’yah.” He grinned and then looked down at his hands, fiddling with his own.

“You’n mi Tío, you good, yeah?” He asked, “I just. Mi Tío been hurt, you know? He been hurt ‘nd Mami tells me what he was like before that, ‘nd I want that Tío back, you know? And, I dunno, Mami says you’re good for him.” I tried not to let my surprise show on my face, but it happened and Emmanuel smiled, “I dunno, it’s a dumb question.”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “God, hittin’ me with the tough shit, ain’t’cha? You just like Nevada.” I ran a hand over the stubble I grew after starting testosterone but never got any father, leaning forward, trying to figure out how to answer the question that I had been asking myself. “I think I’m good to your Tío. I can’t answer that, though, you gotta ask him, y’know? Ain’t somethin’ you can ask me ‘coz ‘course I’m gonna say I’m good to Nevada.” Emmanuel leant against me once more, wrapping his thin, spindly, little kid arms around my middle.

“I’ll ask Tío when he gets back, then. Is he good to you?”

“Sometimes,” I muttered, “Depends. You know how he is, ‘Mmanuel, more than I do, aye? Is he always good to you?” I looked down at his mess of hair, lighter than Nevada’s or Raquel’s. He shrugged, reaching for the remote to press play.

“Yeah, he’s good to me. I mean, ‘less I mess up. He teaches me how to cut, y’know? He makes me run stuff, too, but I ain’t mind that as much.” My inner high school nerd squirmed in my chest, something about Emmanuel and his sweet face, the way he looked up to Nevada whose grammar was less than impeccable, I had to correct him. It didn’t matter that I spoke worse than he did, probably, a loose mouth that didn’t form words fully before moving onto the next, I had to correct him.

“You don’t mind that as much?”

Shyly the boy looked up at me and smiled, a soft blush on his face, before he repeated what I said, “Sorry. Mami says I gotta work on how I talk but Iunno. Tío says it ain’t gonna matter for long.” I tensed and coughed, trying to hold the unknown feeling down my throat instead of in my mouth, where I’d voice it to a six year old who would have had no clue what I was saying. I just sighed and slid down to toss my bare feet onto the coffee table, allowing Emmanuel to curl up more, head resting on my stomach. I twisted my fingers into his hair, letting my head fall back as I dozed instead of paying attention to singing mermaids and perverted crabs. I must have dozed longer than I thought because a hand was shaking me, another set of hands picking up the warmth from my body. I jumped up, heart pounding, but it was just Gabby with his giant, gentle hands cradling Emmanuel.

“Relax, Slice, just gonna take the niño to his room. Jose’s in the kitchen, we got some shit fo’you from Nevada.” I stretched my back, hearing it pop, before Gabby disappeared through the hallway to lay Emmanuel down. I entered the kitchen to find Jose at the counter rolling blunts, licking them shut, before putting them to the side. He looked at me when I entered and held one blunt up as he smiled, before going back to his duties. I skirted around him to fish a beer out of the fridge- a strange, expensive beer favored in the DR. I had grown to like it as opposed to my cheap ass dollar store beer.

“Eurgh,” I groaned as I collapsed into a kitchen chair, “I can’t wait for Nev and Raquel to get back. They know you two’re here? He gave me shit about lettin’ people in for three hours before he left.”

Jose snorted, “That explains why we ain’t seen you ‘round, then. Yeah, he asked us to make sure you ain’t bouncin’ off the walls. ‘Specially when we told him you ain’t been workin’ ‘nd shit lately.” I sighed and laughed at the thought of Nevada making sure that I was taken care of.

“Sure,” I drew the word out, taking a long pull from my beer, “He ain’t told me ‘bout his nephew ‘till he needed me to watch him, ain’t tell me ‘bout his sister ‘till I get the shit beat outta me, ain’t tell me shit ‘bout his DR trip.” I knew that I was bitter and that I was stressed because, hey, I wasn’t good at taking care of kids, but it only made Jose let out a guttural, belly laugh, and throw down a couple of blunts on the table just as Gabby walked in. The latter man clapped his hands and grinned, snatching up a blunt and procuring a lighter.

“Let’s get relaxed, aye?” His face was wide with a grin as he sat next to me and pressed a thick blunt in my hand, “Trujillo Fucksalot told us you ain’t done shit other than Adderall, so it’s time to broaden your horizons.” I smelt the weed, regarding Gabby with skeptical eyes.

“Yo, your intentions good ‘nd all, but what about ‘Mmanuel? Can’t leave this kid alone, Gabby.” Jose, who had sat on my other side, smacked his lips before slapping me on the back.

“I ain’t smokin’. You ‘nd Gabs gonna take a nice slow ride ‘round the block to my apartment ‘nd I’m gonna watch Emmanuel while you do. Trujillo’s orders.” I sighed and watched Gabby light the first blunt and stand, gesturing to the door.

“Let’s go, chico. We only got ‘till mornin’.”


	21. 21

I felt shitty when I woke up, clock on the wall reading near noon, and I could hear coughing from the kitchen and Gabby talking on the phone. I pushed myself up from the floor, pushing my hair out of my eyes.

Gabby barked out a laugh and it echoed through the house, causing me to jump. Standing was hard, but I leaned against the wall, and hoped Jose had sense enough to drop Emmanuel off at school so I had at least three hours to regroup and get my shit together. I couldn’t pick him up all groggy and hungover, whatever it was like the day after you smoked enough weed to power an army. Gabby came out of the kitchen, still talking rapid fire in Spanish, but he tossed a package at me.

It hit my chest with a thud and I fumbled before catching it just before it hit the ground, furrowing my brow. “The fuck this?” I warbled, “Gabby, you can’t do shit like this to me this early.” I tossed the package onto the couch before heading toward the bathroom, ready to get my grungy, shitty shirt off my chest to wash myself in the sink or some shit. The bathroom was small, just a toilet and a sink, and I peeled my shirt off, looking like a zombie as I leaned down to take a drink from the faucet. I had nothing underneath it, but I could shower when I got home- back to Raquel’s. Gabby pounded on the door.

“Got a problem. You wanna ride home ‘nd change or wanna borrow some’a my shit?” I groaned into the water and turned to open the door, wiping my chin and mouth with the back of my hand.

“Yo, you take me home ‘nd I can shower, yeah? Or is it like, Iunno, someone tryin’ to fuckin’ kill one of our boys?” Gabby smirked and slipped his phone back into his pocket. “I need a shower, my man.”

“You can shower. Let’s get you home, ‘kay? Don’t forget to take that package with you, Nevada says he wanna see you in it when he come home.” He smirked, elbowing me as I shoved by him to collect the package and then headed for the door, Gabby following with keys and my shirt thrown over his shoulder. I looked dead to the world and people ducked out of my way whether it was because of the look on my face, the scars on my shoulders, the absolute disgust on my face or because they recognized me as Nevada’s right hand man and his bitch. Either way I was thankful because I had an alcohol induced headache and a craving for pain pills, sleeping pills, or a blunt. Something to quell the pounding pain in the front of my skull, wrapping around until it traveled down my spine.

It was the beginning of a migraine and I hoped that I could get it calmed down before I was heaving over the toilet or laid up in bed all day. I had Emmanuel to take care of and whatever was going wrong to take care of- getting sick wasn’t an option.

I made Gabby stop at the bodega, snatching some painkillers and a soda from a bored man in a fedora doing the daily crossword. Before I could dish out my wallet the door opened and a spy boy with too much hair burst in, chattering wildly to his Tío Jose about some groceries or somethin’ and the man rolled his eyes. He responded harshly in Spanish before turning to me, taking me in over the top of his glasses. “Sorry ‘bout that,” He said, “My nephew, Javy. Kid bright, but he ain’t usin’ it for anything.” I chucked and bid goodbye with my soda and painkillers, hopping back in Gabby’s personal truck, a big, red pickup with a lot of get up and go. I liked it, but I wish I had taken my bike.

As he took a corner fast, though, I leaned back as my stomach turned and I groaned. My headache had progressed past pain and into blinding, and I easily  dry swallowed at least five excedrin, bypassing the soda all together. Gabby chucked at me, finally pulling back into Raquel’s driveway, truck jerking to a stop. I cursed at him and stumbled from the car, heading up the steps to shower the grunge off of me. “Lemme go shower, then we can head to wherever the problem is, yeah?” He nodded, waving me off in favor of leaning against this truck for a smoke, so I headed inside.

Jose was laid across Raquel’s couch, one hand in a bag of chips and the other down his pants. I scoffed and whacked him across the head with the package, “Get your hand out of your junk, Jose. A child lives here.”

“Calm down a bit, aye, Slice? You ain’t ever just ran your fingers through yo’ pubes ‘nd shit. It’s relaxing.” I whatever’d and left to toss my package in my room, heading for the bathroom first things first, stripping down and jumping straight into the water. It came out icy and I shuddered underneath it for a couple of minutes until it warmed up, allowing my taut muscles to relax and my head to loll back until my face was under the spray. For a few minutes I stayed there, swaying under the heat and the water, but eventually I reached for Nevada’s body wash, his shampoo, cleaning myself with his scent.

That bastard didn’t even leave me Leo to keep me company, and I missed the dog.

I missed the man, too. I hated to admit it, to wrap my arms around myself under the spray, trying to replicate some semblance of Nevada in my grip on my own body. I didn’t even care about getting off or anything like that, I only cared about how lonely I was when I was sleeping in the guest room, all alone. Sometimes Emmanuel joined me and it stirred… Paternal feelings within me that I hadn’t felt before.

That was weird, too.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about Emmanuel or Nevada but I knew how I felt about my job. I felt like I had to get it done, so I begrudgingly pulled myself out of the shower and dried, shaking out my hair and hanging my towel lowly around my waist. The steam rolled out off the bathroom and Jose looked up from the table, head low and pressed toward Gabby’s as they conversed. I coughed and shook my head, heading straight for my bedroom.

“I see why Trujillo keeps you ‘round,” Jose called after me, “You’re fuckin’ hot, chico.” I snorted, dropping my towel to get dressed, pulling on regular white shirt, jeans, Converse, and a backwards baseball cap. Jose stood when I went back to the dining room, slapping down a paper into my hand. “We gotta threat,” He said, “‘Gainst Jefe, ‘gainst you, ‘gainst Emmanuel.” My eyebrows shot up and I sucked on my teeth, looking down at the paper in my hand. It was a picture, something spray painted in front of a warehouse.

I read it over, it was written in sloppy Spanish- “I have no fuckin’ clue what this says. I see my name, I see Nevada’s name, I see Emmanuel’s name, but I ain’t see shit else.” Jose translated- it was something akin to slaughtering me and Emmanuel in front of Nevada. “Who knows ‘bout the boy?” My gut twisted, “Gabby, you go to the warehouse ‘nd look around for more shit, I’ll drop ‘Mmanuel off if you figure out whodunit. Yeah? Jose, you go with Gabby.”

“Aye aye, Peynado!” Jose grinned boyishly, bouncing his shoulder into Gabby’s, “Gabbs loves me, yeah? ‘Couse you do, Gabbs.” I snorted and punched him lightly in the shoulder, heading outside to where my bike was parked. Gabby and Jose were making their way to the warehouse and I swung out onto the street, ready to pick up Emmanuel early. I could feel my phone vibrating against my thigh at a red light but I ignored it in favor of getting to the school in time to pick up Emmanuel without someone raising their eyebrows.

* * *

I walked quickly down the hall, one hand on Emmanuel’s shoulder, the other on the knife I kept in my waistband. Someone behind me called my name, loudly, and it echoed off of the empty walls. I twisted quickly and flinched when I saw Levi striding toward me, a confused, lanky blond behind him. He waggled one finger toward me, “We need Emmanuel Ramirez for questioning!”

I pushed Emmanuel behind me, one hand up, “You can’t do that without a parent present, Levi. I know my shit. I ain’t his Dad. His Ma in the Dominican Republic.” Emmanuel clutched into my back, whimpering. I puffed out my chest as Levi stared me down.

“He may have been witness to a rape,” Levi snarled, “And the rape fell in our jurisdiction.”

“Oh, fancy, big words,” I spat, “Fuck off and bring a warrant or some shit. Wait ‘till Raquel comes back from the Dominican Republic, kay?” His fist twisted in my shirt and pulled me close, breathing heavily over my face, leering at me. “Yo, get your hands off me, aye? Fuckin’ police brutality ‘nd shit.” Levi pushed me back and I almost toppled over, snarling.

“Hey, Huang, chill out, yeah? Have ‘im bring the boy back to the precinct.” Levi shook his head and ran a hand over his chin, looking between me and his partner.

“Bring him to the precinct, yeah? You know, before you got involved in this Trujillo bullshit, you woulda done it in a heartbeat. You’da brought him down in a heartbeat, you know this.” My jaw worked as I stared him down, trying to decide what to do. Eventually I nodded.

“Yeah. I gotta make a call, but we’ll show.” I turned and put my hand on Emmanuel’s shoulder, “We’ll be there. Same place?”

“Better hope I ain’t got shit on you, man,” Levi called down the hall after us, “I’ll arrest you on the spot, my man.”

* * *

Gabby called me just as I was fitting Emmanuel into a helmet, strapping it tight to put on the back of his bike, “We got ‘nother problem, Slice.” I cradled my phone between my shoulder and cheek, groaning.

“Everything’s goin’ to tell, my friend, what the fuck is wrong now?” I sighed and lifted Emmanuel onto the bike, swinging my leg over. I felt his little hands wind around my waist to keep him secure to my body and on the bike.

“The threat came from inside,” Gabby explained, sounding drained and frustrated, “Came from one of our higher ups. Jefe’s on his way back but he wants you to take care of it. Can you swing by here?” I groaned, long and drawn out, before agreeing and pushing my phone into my pocket. I didn’t mention anything to Emmanuel, who’s face pressed into the middle of my back. I took off, laying one hand over Emmanuel’s leg behind me to make sure he was still there. The last thing I needed was for him to fall off the back of my bike. Instead of heading toward home, where Emmanuel probably wanted to go, I headed toward the warehouse.

I didn’t weave through traffic- not with ‘Manuel on the back of the bike. When I pulled into the parking section of the warehouse Jose was there, smoking angrily. His face was red and I could see his hands shaking. I kicked up the kickstand, swinging off and helping Emmanuel off before I approached him, leaving him to pull off his helmet. “Fuck’s goin’ on, Jose?” I asked, “What’re we dealin’ with?” He passed me the blunt and I took a deep pull before handing it back. Emmanuel joined me, tucking his little hand into mine, looking up with wide eyes at Jose.

“We got a real pissed off runner. I worked with him ‘couple’a times,” Jose began leading us to a back room, through mazes of dismantled fireworks and pallets of weed getting ready for shipment, “You know? Replacin’ Jeremiah ‘nd shit, cuttin’ and packin’. He’s like my apprentice, or something like that. Name’s Roman. He’s a good kid, real young, like me’n you.” Jose looked back at me just before he pushed open a door, “I don’t think you want Emmanuel to see this. Jefe would be pissed.” I groaned and pulled my cell phone, my old one with only two contacts and various happy pictures, and pressed it into the boy’s hands.

“You got headphones?” I paused for his answer, but when I saw his head begin to shake I called him on his bullshit, “Don’t lie to me, man, just gimme your headphones, yeah?” He slapped them down into my hand and I direct Emmanuel to find a video on Youtube video and to keep his head down as Jose turned and lead us inside. I saw a man with his head pulled back, blood seeping from his nose and down over his mouth which is gagged with a black scrap of material.

I snorted as Gabby threw a hard punch into the man’s stomach and his groans echoed through the room. I called out to Gabby and pointed Emmanuel to a corner, crouching to instruct him to sit still and then gabby came up to me, bleeding knuckles and split lip. Jose crossed his arms and they both looked to me, “What? I ain’t know shit about what’s goin’ on.”

“Yeah..” Jose looked at me as if I was stupid, “But you’re Peynado. You’re Jefe’s right hand man, you know? You’re his fuckin’ Maria Martínez de Trujillo, man.” Gabby patted me on the back, grinning.

“Yeah!” He agreed, “You’re the man, Jonah, you’re Peynado.”

I spluttered and turned to Jose, poking him in the chest harshly as I tried to deny what they were telling me, “You’re _Ureña_ , though, gotta count for some shit, yeah?” I was desperately trying to get out of being the top tier while Nevada was gone- I had wanted it, wanted a taste of what Nevada had, but I had a taste when he was there. I didn’t want the whole damn sandwich, just a bite. Jose smiled at me, giggling.

“Yeah, but Peynado replaced Ureña, bro, you’re the big dog in town. It’ll earn you some fuck points, yeah, for when Nevada gets home?” I flushed and snarled out a fine before shoving past them, gesturing for the man holding Roman’s hair to let the latter drop. I recognized him as the man with the duffel bag and I snapped at him.

“Name?” I asked, puffing out my chest, “What’s yours?” He looked stunned, as if nobody had asked him that before and stuttered out his name.

“Jacob,” He said, “My name is Jacob.” I memorized it quickly, scanning his face, “Go tell Gabby to watch Emmanuel while I figure out what the fuck is goin’ on, ‘kay? Then come back over her, ‘case I might need yah.” Jacob nodded and passed by me, leaving me with the quivering man on the floor. I kicked him and the opened my knife close to his ear so that he could hear it and flinch. I cut the gag out of his mouth, cutting the white fabric off of his eyes. His dark blue eyes met my light blue eyes and I smirked, clenching the knife blade between my teeth to jerk him up by the shirt and place him in a sitting position against the wall, “Some position you got yourself in, Roman. Zip ties hurtin’ you?” I noticed whoever had zip tied him had twisted his right arm elbow in so he couldn’t break free and I chuckled, tugging on the tie.

“Fuck you,” He spat, “Go fuckin’ _die_.”

I snorted before cocking my fist back and hit him once, hard, in the jaw. I sneered, “You watch your mouth, my man. What’s got yo’ nipples in a twist, aye? Talk to me ‘nd I might not kill you for threatenin’ Nev and ‘Mmanuel.” He spit blood at me, and it landed squarely on my neck. I cursed and pushed him back, watching his eyes unfocus briefly before they came to, looking at my face. “Tell me your damage, my guy, before it’s too late.” I held my hand out, holding my breath for a moment because if someone didn’t hand me a gun I looked foolish.

Thankfully Jose came through, handing me a shiny, silver pistol and I aimed it easily at his forehead, sucking on my teeth, “You got blood on my white shirt.” I said, “So fuckin’ talk.” With a grin on my face I watched the man stutter, trying to get out his response.

“My daughter, she was raped.” Roman gasped, “She was raped ‘nd Emmanuel saw it ‘nd the little shit didn’t say anything about it.” Harshly I stomped on his calf and he howled, “And, God, she’s so broken. I dunno who it was, but she said Emmanuel was there. She said he was there.” Roman started to cry, chest heaving sobs, “And Nevada promised to protect me, protect Jamie. He promised, and promised you would, too, and that fuckin’ brat!”

I didn’t kick him for calling Emmanuel a brat, just because I was adding facts in my head. I handed the pistol back to Jose, rubbing my chin, “Your kid, she go to the same school as ‘Mmanuel?” Roman nodded, “Who investigatin’’? Manhattan SVU?”

“Yeah,” Roman gasped, “How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess.” I muttered, turning. I pulled Jose close, whispering in his ear, “Take care of him, yeah? Get him washed up, ‘nd tell him I’m gonna take care of this shit.” I pulled away and clapped my hands as I headed toward Gabby and Emmanuel, “C’mon, Manny! We gotta ‘nother place to go today.”


	22. 22.

“Come, Emmanuel,” I smiled at him, “We have’t talk to some police officers ‘bout your friend, kay?”

He looked up and me and squeezed my hand, shuffling closer to my leg in the elevator. I let go of his hand to put my hand on his shoulder and pull him closer, trying to put some semblance of comfort into my hold for the boy, somehow after a week and a half trying to make myself more paternal than nothing.

The elevator dinged open and I took his hand again, putting my other in my pocket as we entered the squad room. It looked exactly like it had when I went to meet Geoff except Levi was waiting, leaning up against his desk and smirking.

“Wow,” He drawled, pushing off his desk and sauntering toward me, “Oh, and you brought the kid!” He clapped. I snarled and jerked Emmanuel closer to my side as Levi stood in front of me, sizing me up. “Are you going to let us talk to him now?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” I stepped forward and bumped my chest against his, “Are you gonna stop bein’ a prick? I want a different detective, thank’yh.” Emmanuel tugged on my shirt and pressed his face into my lower back and I turned away from Levi, bending at the knees to pick the shivering boy up. Nevada had taught him about police and about the business, so it made sense that the boy would quiver in fear in a building full of police officers. I cooed to him and approached the nicest looking woman I could, someone Emmanuel would not be intimidated by and someone less likely to recognize me.

We ended up in a room with a Detective Rollins, a sweet southern girl with a nice face. Emmanuel seemed to calm down as the three of us sat on the floor and colored, ‘Amanda’ asking small questions that didn’t seem intrusive. I was there purely to keep him calm. She spoke in a soft voice about his school, his friends, and then she mentioned Jamie. I could see Emmanuel tense up and his eyes flickered to me, looking to see if he should answer or not. I nodded my head, scooting closer to him.

“Are you friends with Jamie?” Amanda asked, “I know she told me sometimes you play with her after school in the music room. Is that true?”

“Yeah,” Emmanuel mumbled, “Sometimes. If Jonah o mi Mami let’s me. Jonah let’s me play more, though. He’s nicer than mi Mami.” I smiled at him and then looked over at Amanda as she wrote something down, “I like playin’ with Jamie. She nice ‘nd mi Tío likes her ‘nd her Papi.” Amanda sighed and looked at me, cocking an eyebrow. I took that as a code that she knew what Nevada did, what Jamie’s Dad did.

“What do you do when you play in the music room?” Amanda asked. Emmanuel pushed a coloring page toward me and pressed a couple of crayons into my hands. He was silently asking me to color and I obliged, waiting for his answer.

“We play hide’n seek from Mr. Johan.” Emmanuel said nonchalantly, “He always tries to get Jamie into his room after art time. She says she doesn’t like him, ‘nd she needs help to hide. Sometimes we don’t hide in the music room.” He looked up, wide, green eyes and flushed.

“Where do you hide?”  
  
“Sometimes the…” His brows furrowed as he searched for the word in his brain, “Baño. Other times we hide in Mr. Johan’s room after he already left. Tío let’s me walk Jamie home sometimes, coz her Papi at work ‘nd she ain’t got no Mami. Maybe her Mami ain’t nice. I dunno. We just play hide ‘n’ seek.” Emmanuel looked up to Amanda, who was gazing at me, and then looked at me. “Jonah, I wanna go home now, kay?” I sighed, resting my head on my hand before nodding.

“Yeah, ‘Mmanuel. I think Amanda’s done asking questions. We can go home. I gotta do some work, anyway, okay?” I stood and Emmanuel scrambled into my arms, pressing his face into my neck and holding on tightly with his arms and legs around my torso. I shook Amanda’s hand and gave her my number, ensuring that Nevada nor Raquel would not pick up the phone and I would. Levi watched me closely as I walked through the squad room again, Logan at his side.

They were leaning together, speaking in hushed tones, especially after I got out of eyeshot. I could hear them, talking about evidence, and I smirked. They had nothing, they would never have anything.

Nevada would make sure of that.

* * *

“Yeah,” I spoke down the phone, “You got eyes on ‘im? Emmanuel told me this our guy.” On the other side of the phone call Jose hummed an affirmative. He was trailing that Johan guy- first name was Rick- and he was working late that night. I had Jose trail him.

I waved at Gabby and the car I was in rolled away from the school as I lit up a cigarette, “Bring him back, Jose. In one piece, aye? Nev woulda already taken care of this, kay? I gotta get on my shit and make sure the Heights know ain’t nobody fuck with Trujillo’s men or their families.”

“Aye aye, Peynado,” Jose joked, “I gotta go, Rick’s almost to his car.” I heard the cocking of a gun before the line went dead and Gabby pulled into the warehouse we’d been using for all our shit; the fireworks warehouse. He parked and sighed, wiping down his face to look at me.

“You really wanna do this, Jonah?” He asked softly, “We got Nevada’s nephew in the backseat ‘nd you wanna kill a guy. This ain’t a good idea. Jefe ain’t gonna like this.” I pondered what he was saying while looking at Emmanuel through the side mirror, his body soft as he slept. I spoke lowly, so I didn’t wake him.

“Wanna know what Nev told me on my first day?” I looked toward Gabby, “I needed some fuckin’ rohypnol for Doug ‘nd he told me none’a his men are rapists.” I stared, hard, for a minute, “We need to send a fuckin’ message, man, ‘nd Nevada ain’t here to do it. Who’s here? Me? You? Jose? Which one’a us you think actually gonna be able to do shit ‘sides kill him?” A heartbeat of silence and then Gabby nodded.

“You’re right. You’re ruthless, my man. You always been like this?” I snickered, “I don’t think so. You just get what you want.” I snorted.

“Hell yeah, I do,” I pushed the door open, “I know what I want, Gabby. I know how to get it. That’s how I got here, you know, I knew what I wanted and how to get it.” I shut the door and finished off the cigarette, tossing it underneath my boot as Gabby pulled around the warehouse to park and carry Emmanuel into an office to sleep, to avoid what would happen. I waited in front for Jose to bring Rick and eventually they pulled in, a pale and sweat Rick in the driver’s seat and a grinning Jose next to him.

I snorted at the thought of Jose’s extended arm because he enjoyed making Rick drive to his own doom. I stopped them before they could make it too far, leaning down to grin through the driver’s window. “Evenin’, Mr. Johan, do you know who I am?” He shook his head, “Get up, get outta the car. I’ll tell yah who I am.” I helped him out and looked down on him. Surprisingly I was at least two inches taller, something I never got to say about men, so I slung an arm over his shoulders and leaned in close to his face. “Let’s walk to the door, aye? Let me start by tellin’ you my name. Does Jonah Gleam ring a bell? No? Maybe Peynado will set off a few alarms, yeah?” He stumbled and whimpered, “Now, be glad you came with my man Jose, coz otherwise it’d be me gettin’ you ‘nd you don’t want that shit.” As we crossed the threshold I moved my arm and pushed Rick roughly between the shoulder blades. He yelped as he fell to the concrete and Jose slammed the door behind us.

I kicked him and Rick howled before trying to crawl away, further into the warehouse. A stray foot sent a container of empty firework shells tipping over and I caught them before righting them. “Damn, man, you can’t control your body can you?” I taunted, “Jose, let’s get our friend to his feet and into the back room, yeah? We got hardworkin’ men out here.” I nodded to the packers who were dividing up drugs and pressing them into bottle rockets and sparkler cases that would be distributed to the masses of drug users.

Of course we sold actualy fireworks, too, because how would Nevada stay renting a warehouse for fireworks if he didn’t actually sell them? Sometimes Nevada would take a couple real fireworks for himself- he kept a stash at his, our?, house for ‘emergencies’.

Once Rick was out of the packing room and into a back room, the room where I was taken when I first started, the room where Nevada took people for me to get information and to end them. I was familiar with the room and the walls were lined with various tools, weapons under taped under tables. It was my second home, my second, gruesome, blood stained home. I watched as Jose tossed Rick to the ground, spitting on his back and heading to a corner to lean against. I circled Rick, slowly, hearing him whimper from the ground.

“So it’s true?” He asked, voice breaking, “You are the one Trujillo sends to kill people.” I snorted and pushed him onto his back, planting one foot on either side of his hips to bend down and taunt him.

“Trujillo did not send me this time, Ricky. If Trujilla had sent me I wouldn’t be Peynado. I’d be Jonah. I’m not Jonah today, am I Jose?”

“No, sir,” He grinned.

“No, sir,” I repeated, hand reaching out to wrap fingers around Rick’s neck, “See that shit? Trujillo ain’t sent shit, ain’t heard shit. This is all me, you get me? You got me? Wanna know why you’re here? Aye?” Rick’s eyes welled with tears when I slammed the back of his head against the concrete floor. I stood to my full height and stepped away from Rick, pacing the room with a sick grin on my face, “Heard through a grapevine, and by a fuckin’ grapevine I mean a threat ‘gainst me, ‘gainst Nevada, ‘gainst Emmanuel. You hear ‘bout the spray paint outside this joint or did you hear ‘bout the Dad that dropped his ‘lil’ girl off with a face full of pain?”

Terror seeped into Rick’s eyes, “Look, whatever Jamie said is a lie.” He rushed out, “Swear. I ain’t touch her.” I whipped around, knife pulled from my waistband and aimed at him.

“I ain’t say nothin’ ‘bout touchin’ her, Ricky. Where’d that come from?” I stalked toward him, twisting my hand in his hair as I pulled him to his knees, running a red trail down his jawline. He bled and shivered. I gestured to Jose, “Zip ties, behind his back, so he can’t get out.”

As Jose got the zip ties ready I reached for a gun off of the wall, turning back to Ricky, “Because I know exactly what you did to her, Ricky, you gonna do somethin’ for me, aight? You go to the cops, you out yourself. You go to the cops, you fuckin’ die. You tell anyone you’ll fuckin’ die, if I don’t kill you anyways.”

* * *

My phone ringing woke me, causing me to curse loudly and answer it with a brazen, “What the fuck?” And I wasn’t met with a coherent answer, just a rhythmic keening of my name accompanied with the wet sound of lube. “Nevada?” I pulled the phone away from my face to see a rare, smiling picture of Nevada and the peace emoji next to his name, “You told me I ain’t allowed to come while you gone but you fuckin’ someone?”

“Nng,” The wet sound stopped and I figured Nevada had stopped whatever he was doing, “I ain’t- ah- nobody here. Nobody but me. We got stuck in Texas, I ain’t gonna be home ‘till Thursday. I need you, Jonah.”

My breath caught in my throat, “Come home, then.” I offered, “I miss sleepin’ in our bed.” A long, drawn out moan nearly made my head start spinning and then I could hear Nevada’s hand moving over himself.

“Fuck,” He gasped, “Hearin’ you call it our bed, man, that get’s me goin’. Give it to me,” He began to beg, “Come on, please, give it to me Jonah.” I sat up, confused, and waited for him to say more, “I need it, por favor. I’ve been waitin’, waitin’ so long for your cock, Jonah.” I wheezed out a breath, swinging my legs over the side of my bed to brace myself with an elbow on one of my knees, “I’m so hard, I need it. Te necesito. Need you, Jonah.”

“What do you want me to do, Nevada?”  I asked, “Come on, tell me. Tell me what you want, tell me what you want me to do to you.” He let out a long, needy groan and I wondered how I had never gotten to hear him make that noise in bed with me, “Tell me or I won’t fuck you for three weeks when you get home.”

“Hit me,” Nevada sounded as if his teeth were gritted, “Fuck, I want you to slap me. Tie me up. I want you’t fuck me, Jonah, por favor.”

“Stop touching yourself,” I ordered. Much to my surprise, he did. I could hear him whining with every exhale and cursing my name with every inhale, “Good boy.” Nevada groaned deep within his chest. “Tell me what you think my cock looks like.”

“What? Fuck, Jonah, just let me come. I ain’t been able to come without you here, baby, come on.” A thrill shot through me when he called me baby and I moaned under my breath. “Fuckin’ fine, you know, I want. God, can I touch myself while I fuckin’ do this shit?” I made an affirmative noise deep in my throat, laying back on the bed, leaving my legs to hang over the edge.

“Get on with it. If I tell you to stop touching yourself you gotta do it or I’ll fuckin’ hang up, Nev. Swear to God.”

“It’s long,” Nevada sighed into the phone, voice hitching, “God your cock is so long, Jonah. It’s- ah, ah- it’s fuckin’ beautiful. Love it. So big, so thick,” His breath was heavy in my ear as he described my nonexistent cock like he had seen it, touched it, taken it. “I can’t do this,” He moaned, voice broken, “Jonah, por favor, por favor.”

“Stop,” I gasped, my own hand circling on my stomach, “Nev, stop. Fuck, man. You gotta come back soon. Can’t wait to fuck you.” A broken moan echoed, “Yeah, can’t wait. Can’t wait to fuck you, ‘nd make you take my cock, make you fuck yourself on it, baby boy.” I shocked myself and nothing shocked me more than hearing Nevada choke on a groan of my name, nearly screaming. I had heard him make that noise only once and it was when he came after hours of edging us both.

Gaping at the ceiling, I felt betrayed, “I told you to stop touching yourself, Nevada.”

"I did,” He grumbled, “You can’t pull shit like calling me baby boy while talking about me fucking myself on your cock and expect me not to come. Christ, Jonah.” A laugh bubbled in my lower chest, wiping away any arousal I may have felt, “Aye, don’t laugh at me, I’m fuckin’ covered in come.” He spoke between labored breaths, but I could hear the smile in his voice. I gave him a second to catch his breath.

“Nev, hey, what’s happenin’? Fuck you mean by all this?”  
  
“I just had the best orgasm in my life, Pichoncito, give me some fuckin’ time, yeah?” I giggled, “Fuck, I been thinkin’ bout you fuckin’ me since I left. Dunno what made me think about it but I want it.” I smiled.

“We can do that if y’still want it when you get back. You almost busted a nut when I accidentally called it our bed.” Nevada hummed and I knew he was nearing sleep, like always.

“It is, though, isn’t it? Our bed, yeah? You been sleepin’ with me for awhile now. Months.” He sighed, “I think that makes it our bed. I like that, y’know, havin’ you ‘n my bed. I like it. Like you.” I snorted and moved until I was back in the bed fully, wiggling to cover myself with the blanket. “I ‘on’t tell you enough, I know that, y'know? Jonah, I should tell’yh more.” A warmth grew from the pit of my stomach and I sighed.

“Nevada, you’re come drunk,” I laughed, “You can tell me this stuff after I ain’t just gave you the best orgasm’a your life. Christ, man, I ain’t that stupid.” On the other end of the phone, Nevada sighed. “Come home’t me, okay? Emmanuel misses you ‘nd he misses Raquel. Come home.”

A few heartbeats passed and I was afraid Nevada had fallen asleep but then I heard a rumble of movement, “Yeah,” His voice rumbled, “I’m comin’ home’t’yh, Jonah. Te amo.” And then the line went dead.

My heart jumped when I recognized the words he spoke and I sat up, staring at my background, a picture taken of Nevada in casual, ‘civilian’ clothing. I gazed at it for a moment, taking in his face, the way he looked not like Trujillo, but like Nevada. My Nevada. I turned to the side and laid the phone where I could see it, falling back to sleep easily. Nevada’s voice echoed in my head saying te amo over and over.

I fell asleep smiling.


	23. 23

In the morning I sent Emmanuel off to school with the promise that he’d be eating dinner and staying the night at a friend’s house.

I was free to do what I wanted so I collected some of Nevada’s men, after making sure he’d be back that night, and headed to the streets.

I was getting word that some of our- his- dealers were skirting off the top of the shit we were selling so while Nevada was out of town I was going to take care of it. Leaning against the table I separated out the pills I wanted to take that day; some Adderal, a pain pill leftover from Jeremiah-inflicted injuries, some Excedrin for a migraine I was developing. Before I could take them the door opened, Jacob sauntering in with some lanky ass kid, Jose, and Gabby. I nodded at all of them before swallowing my pills, slamming the empty water glass down.

“Mornin’,” I said, “We good to go today? Ain’t got the fuckin’ world fallin’ ‘round us like the past three weeks?”

Jacob spoke first, “Naw, we’re good. Nobody has their head screwed on right without Nevada here.” I chuckled and reached for my jacket, rubbing my forehead, “You okay, Jonah?” I grimaced, nodding, before opening the closet and grabbing a baseball bat Raquel told me she kept for security. It felt weighed in my hands and I tossed it around to see if the fit was right. It was and I smiled. “What’re you gonna do, break some kneecaps?”

I grinned and faux swung toward’s Jacob’s, “Maybe, man, Iunno. They gonna give us sass? Gotta show ‘em Peynado an’ his crew just as fuckin’ mean as Trujillo.”

“So now we yo’ crew?” Jose grinned and snatched the baseball bat from me, pushing my forehead, “Guys, I think we just got promoted! Almost as fast as Jooh-nah!” He winked at me before sauntering out the door, baseball bat still in hand. Gabby snickered and I hung back to talk with Jacob, the only one there I had minimal contact with but had seen around.

“So,” I started as we walked toward the SUV, “Ain’t seen you much. First time I saw you was with Nev, you remember?” Jacob nodded, pushing his hands deep into his pockets as I held open the back door for him, “Tell me ‘bout yourself, Jacob. You seem like a good boy, why you in this shit?”

“So my brother ain’t in it,” He said quickly, looking me earnestly in the eyes before looking to the seat in front of him, “We don’t have the money for our place and it’s just me and him, you know? This is the best payin’ job in the Heights.”

“Nevada is a good man,” I said coolly, leaning back, thinking to what said man told me before hanging up the phone the night prior, “He takes care’a his men. Take care’a you ‘nd your brother. If he won’t, I will.” Jose, in the passenger seat, snorted.

“Soon it’s not gonna be the rein of Trujillo anymore, gonna be the rein of Peynado. You gonna be more ruthless than Nevada ever thought ‘bout bein’.” I kicked the back of his seat scowling. We all knew the only way it would become ‘the rein of Peynado’ would be if Nevada was hurt, locked up, or dead. I didn’t like thinking about any of them. Jose apologized quickly, looking down to the baseball bat.

“I don’t want my brother in on this, you know?” Beside me, Jacob sighed, “He’s twelve. He doesn’t need this shit. Our Mom bailed weeks ago, left Robbie with me.” I nodded, punching him in the shoulder lightly.

“‘Nough of you’re fuckin’ sob story, my man, gimme the real you. The you that joined a fuckin’ crew of criminals before lookin’ for a real job.” Gabby and Jose laughed in the front seat, “What do you like, aye? I needed shit, that’s why I found Nevada. Then I found out I’m good at this shit, you know, good at slicin’ people up. What’re you good at?”

“It’s like he’s conducting a job interview.” Gabby stage whispered at Jose, the pair of them breaking into laughter. I laughed with them and, when I did, Jacob finally broke into a chuckle.

“I just like… I dunno, really, Jonah. I like the guys and I like knowin’ Nevada has my back. It’s like, when you work for a big company you’re just a number but Nevada knows me. He asks how Robbie’s doin’ like, all the time. And he knows shit, too. He knew that I was strapped for cash to get some Robbie some new shoes so he made me come in with duffel. Gave me two thousand for that job and it was, you know, barely a job.” Warmth flooded my chest and I smiled at Jacob, which seemed to make him relax. I nodded and fished a Marlboro from my pocket, gesturing to Jacob.

“Cool story. You got a light?”

* * *

I circled Rick, swinging the baseball bat casually and whistling. He was pale and laying in a pile of his own sick which couldn’t help the infection in his stomach. I knew that he would die from that if I didn’t get him to the hospital, so maybe I would take him, let him live, let him remember my face.

I also knew that was risky, too risky. If he lived to tell the tale of the time I made him hate himself, I would surely be taken down. Rick was too meek, too weak, too scared to not go running to the police no matter what I told him.

“I should make an example of you,” I absentmindedly thought, looking around the room. Jacob smiled softly at me and then went back to glaring at Rick. I stopped, pointing the bat at him. “What’s up with you, J?” I asked, bringing his attention back to me, “Somethin’ up your ass?” He smirked and then shook his head.

“No, just got a kid at home.”

“Ah, your brother. Must be hard knowin’ what this shit bag did, aye?” Jacob’s jaw tightened and he looked away, “That’s why Gabby ain’t here. He got three kids at home, you know? Three lil’ girls. He shows me pictures, sometimes, real sweet.” Jacob smiled and then looked away from the both of us, swallowing heavily as he tried to keep thoughts out of his head, “You wanna hit ‘im?” I asked, stalking toward Jacob, “Want to bash his head in? Wanna make him suffer?” I held the baseball bat out to him, shaking it briefly.

“No,” Jacob’s voice sounded hoarse, “I… I can’t. You go ahead.” I nodded, grinning, before settling the baseball bat into my fists, turning and swinging at Rick. I hit his ribs, hearing a satisfying crack as he flung backward. I watched as he curled in on himself and groaned, one hand cupping where the bat hit and the other where his stomach was cut open. Savagely I grinned and swung the bat to where it connected with the concrete next to Rick’s face, making him bite out a sob. I laughed and then turned back to Jacob.

“Go on, you can leave,” I was breathing heavily, “I know this bothers you.” Jacob hesitated by the door, looking back at me.

“You’re not gonna kill him, right?”

“Nah,” I said, “I’m just gonna, you know, knock his head a lil’ bit so he doesn’t remember anythin’ you know? Can’t be good if he goes ‘round blabbin’ ‘bout my ass beatin’ him black’n’blue.” Jacob scurried out of the door, slamming it behind him. I turned back to Rick and rolled him onto his back, pressing my shoe down onto his chest, hard, before kicking him in the lower side. He howled and whimpered up at me before I raised my arms, slamming the baseball bat into the side of his head and watching his eyes go out of focus, crossing slightly, before he went limp. I spat on him before dropping the baseball bat, heading out back for a smoke or two.

With shaking hands I put the cigarette to my lips, noticing the blood on them. I wiped them down my pants, turning when the door opened behind me. “Jacob said somethin’ ‘bout takin’ him to the hospital?” I nodded and flicked ash before looking at him as I blew smoke.

“I don’t want him t’die and let all our work go to waste. Plus, you know, Roman ain’t seen us come through for him yet. We gonna come through for him when he hears ‘bout it on the news.” Gabby looked into the distance thoughtfully before nodding.

“Makes sense. Look’s like you hit him pretty hard in the head, though, you sure you didn’t kill him?” I shrugged and smiled before dropping the cigarette and crushing it under my foot. “Who’s gonna drop him?”

“I say we take ‘im home, put ‘im on his couch and call the cops. Who the fuck cares, you know?” Gabby tossed an arm over my shoulder, pulling me close. “Fuck you doin’ man?” I grunted and laughed when I realized Gabby was trying to hug me and I shifted, wrapping my skinny arms around his stomach, locking my hands. Gabby sighed and when he pulled back and grinned at me. “What’s goin’ on man? You’re been fuckin’ weird.”

“Nevada’s back,” He said, sending a thrill of excitement through my whole body, “He ‘nd Raquel got back today. Couple of minutes ago.” I stepped back and smiled, softly.

“You’re kidding?” I said, “Yeah? Don’t fuck with me, man. Ain’t funny, you know?” Gabby shook his head and pressed his phone into my hands, a text from Nevada.

yo can’t get нold oғ jonaн. yoυ got eyeѕ on нιм?

I smiled at the text and handed Gabby back his phone, “You know where he is?” I asked, “I wanna see him.” Gabby chuckled and tapped away on his phone, waiting for a ping while teasing me, jabbing my sides, before a text came in. I snatched the phone and read the text, backing up in a hopping motion before jogging around the warehouse and to my bike, hopping on haphazardly. I didn’t care about anything besides going to see Nevada, hearing him again not over the phone, talking to him. Anything.

Finally I got to Nevada’s house, the one that I hadn’t been to in weeks, except to hide a present, the house that I shared with Nevada, the house I craved to be back at. I pulled in the driveway too fast and barely got the kickstand up before I was heading for the door. Just before I got there the door flung open and Nevada was there, looking more refreshed than I had ever seen him look. Somehow he looked younger, happier and he stopped on the porch and looked at me before opening his arms for me. I grinned, Nevada smiled, and I made my way slowly up to him.

He wrapped his arms around me and I sighed shakily. Nevada smelt the same and his arms felt somehow stronger wrapped around me. I kissed at his chest, relishing in the solid feel of him against me and his lips came down to rest onto my crown. “Pichoncito,” He breathed, “God,” He pulled me closer and finally bent to kiss at my cheeks feverishly. I looked into his eyes and fisted the edges of his leather jacket, the green bringing me back down from the heaven I was in. We breathed out in sync for a moment before I kissed him.

Everything I had been feeling came out in the kiss. All of the fear, the anger, the sexual frustration, the happiness, came out in the kiss. Nevada groaned and pulled my closer with a large hand on my hip, another on the back of my head. He nipped at my lower lip before pulling back and grinning in the Trujillo way that he did. I pushed my face back into his chest as it rumbled with his voice, “Did you get my gift?”

I nodded, pulling away in a rush, “I didn’t open it though and I got you a gift after I took Emmanuel to talk to the cops,” Nevada tensed but as I skirted around him he relaxed when I gave him a dark look, “Anyway, I went by the bodega, not the cheap one either, y’know, can’t be buyin’ Trujillo shit gifts.” It was so weird to have his hand in mine and pull him through the house, to have him there. It had been weeks, “I went to the expensive place, y’know, only the best for my Trujillo.” I let go of his hand and reached above the bookcase. In all of the weeks Nevada had been gone I had only went back to his house to stash the gift and then I left, unable to be in the house without him. I reached onto my tiptoes to get it and felt his hands press into my sides, his head bent to kiss at the back of my neck as he sighed into my skin.

“Nev, we can’t do that yet,” I spun and pressed the box into his chest harshly, grinning up at him, “You have to open the gift and then I’ll open mine.” His eyes darkened and I bit my lip as he opened it, pulling the wrapping off without looking away from me.

“I can’t wait for you to open your gift, Jonah,” The way he said my name sent shivers down my spine and his eyes finally dropped as he palmed the expensive wooden cigar holder and popped it open to see two fat Cubans and the technology of the simplistic wooden case. His eyes softened in awe as he ran a finger over everything, snapping it shut and pulling me into a fierce kiss. “We have all night, Pichoncito, I left Leo con Raquel.” I kissed him again, but softly.

“Good, then you can prove to me that you really do love me.”


	24. 24

Jonah’s mind was fuzzy, body cold on the ground. He hurt but couldn’t figure out why he hurt or the cacophony of noises assaulting his ears. Sirens, screaming, someone nearby was cursing but he couldn’t fathom it. His eyes, as blue as the cold, winter sky, closed slowly as blood trickled in them.

He didn’t know where he was, nor did he know where Nevada, Gabby, Jacob, Jose… Emmanuel. Jonah struggled with his body, limbs heavy, because he remembered the boy being there. In the months following Nevada’s return he had bonded with the boy, taught him, provided warmth in lieu of the coldness the Ramirez’s held.

Jonah groaned and then another voice spoke, a body leaning over him, “Sir, sir, are you okay?” But Jonah’s eyes remained closed and his eyebrows furrowed, trying to figure out what happened.

* * *

My breath came ragged from my chest, mouth aching around the bandanna tied tightly around my jaw. Nevada stood and appraised me, one of my cigs in his mouth, shirt open, jeans undone. He looked like a dream, a God, in front of me. I could feel the cold of the room on my sweaty skin and I knew how I looked; amazing, debauched, wearing nothing but thin, lacy thigh highs and matching panties with my packer tucked in them, white belts binding my wrists together.

Nevada’s gift to me.

“You look breathtaking, amor,” Nevada said, “I’m glad these are you color.” He stepped forward, sliding one finger into the waistline of the panties and I whined, closing my eyes to tip my head back and expose my long, marked neck to Nevada. “I’m so glad you’re mine. But you need to _keep your eyes open, sir, stay with me_!”

* * *

The man above Jonah was having trouble keeping himself sturdy as the ambulance rocketed around cars in the New York traffic, holding his hand hard over Jonah’s abdomen, “We need you to stay awake, okay?”

“What’s happenin’?” He could barely form words, let alone keep his eyes open, but his mouth kept moving. It was like it was filled with cotton, lower jaw heavier than his top and for a moment black spots hung in his vision. A heavy hand on his lower face made his eyes snap open, searching for the owner of the hands, because they felt like Nevada’s hands. They weren’t. Jonah opened his eyes to another paramedic who was even bloodier than the one who was talking to him.

Heart beating irregularly fast, Jonah slipped back into his memories.

* * *

“Fuckin’!” Nevada slammed into the house, startling me from my perch on the back of the sofa, “Get the fuck up, we got some snot nosed lil’ bastard to track down.” I stood and stretch my back before looking for answers.

“Yeah, why?”

Coiled and ready Nevada pulled a picture from the inside pocket and flung it at me- I decided not to scramble and try to catch it in the air and just bend for it. I snorted when I saw what it was, two kids peering around a corner and for a moment I smirked; then I zeroed in on what the one of the two had in his hands.

It was my duffel bag.

My duffel bag, the duffel bag I kept at the warehouse because it had my surgery money in it and they had it in their hands. The smile fell from my face and I held the photo up dramatically. “What the fuck is this, Nevada? What the fuck?” He ran a heavy hand over his jaw before his eyes met mine. Fire met ice.

“We got shit to do.”

* * *

Just before the ambulance reached the hospital, Jonah’s heart stopped. As the ambulance slipped into the entrance his heart restarted, eyes flickering under his lids as his memories rapidly fired in his brain. The paramedics and doctors were panicking above him, in the real world, but he had no clue.

* * *

Nevada was scary when he was mad. I had been on the receiving end of his anger more than once, but I was angrier than him. My whole body was vibrating with rage and Nevada could tell so, after the kid, some little bitch named _Bobbie_ , pissed on his shoes he gestured for me to step in.

I slapped him, lightly, baring my teeth, “Tell me where the fuckin’ money is, yeah?” He shook, snot dripping from his nose, “You got ‘nother kid in on it, yeah? You didn’t mean to take my money. You know, that’s money for my surgery. Bet you didn’t know that, Bobbie.”

“R-Robbie.” The boy corrected. My teeth ground together harder, if that were possible. “W-we didn’t mean to take your money.”

“Of course not,” I mocked, planting my hands firmly on either side of his head, “Of course you didn’t. Doesn’t matter, though, y’know? You gonna give me my money. Where is it, you fuck?” After the boy broke into sobs again I figured, like anyone mad with rage would, that the other kid could tell us where the money was.

Easily I dismissed Jose and Gabby, who were holding him down, and tossed the boy over the edge of the bridge. His screams were drowned out by the sound of a train horn and I turned, watching Nevada inhale the smoke he exhaled before walking away.

He had a smile on his face.

* * *

When Jonah came to he was laid up in a hospital chair and his eyes landed on Nevada Ramirez, casted up, tube down his throat. Gabby was across the room. He wasn’t sure how he knew what he wanted to do but when the doctor walked in Jonah stood, pain everywhere, and took hold of a singular crutch to keep weight off of his right foot. A pistol with a silencer ended up under the man’s jaw and Jonah spoke curtly, “When we leave, Nevada Ramirez is pronounced dead. If not, your daughter doesn’t fucking make it home from school.”

His voice was cold.

The doctor nodded.

Jonah took control of the heights.

* * *

_fin. check back to my profile for the sequel: the reign of peynado._


End file.
